A Twist of Fate
by Aryana NightAngel
Summary: The smallest change can create the most marvelous butterfly effect. Four fates can easily be irrevocably altered. When Harry is left alone on his first day in Diagon Alley, perceptions and events can never be the same.
1. Meeting Harry

(AN: This chapter is from the Point of View of Draco Malfoy)

I was unpleasantly bored, but that was nothing new. The brimming excitement at preparing for finally starting school at Hogwarts had been lost earlier in the day while spending several dull hours listening to my mother pick apart every imperfection of the robes I was having made.

I'd slipped away from her in the apothecary, intent on going to look at racing brooms before she found me again. The window of Quality Quidditch Supplies was packed with kids pressing their faces against the glass to get a look at the Nimbus Two Thousand. I grinned; my dad had already promised to buy me one.

I was so intent on getting into the store than I ran headlong into a boy who'd been standing back away from the crowd at the window, silently watching the hubbub. He wheeled around the face me before either of us had realized the sleeve of my robes had caught on his jacket's zipper; we didn't notice that until we'd both sprawled flat on the sidewalk. It took us a moment to disentangle ourselves, and then we sat on the sidewalk, trying to unhook my sleeve from the front of his jacket.

My first instinct as a Malfoy was to demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing and blame him for the whole thing, but something about his green eyes gave me pause.

"Sorry for running you over," I said grimly as I finally tugged my sleeve free. "What were you doing standing back here?" I asked after he nodded in acceptance, doing me the favor of not lingering on my mistake. I'd never met the boy before, but there were plenty of people I hadn't met. He was about my age, and his deeply tanned skin was nearly brown in comparison to mine, which was ivory pale. He was thin and wiry, with a distinctly malnourished look to him that was only increased by the baggy clothes he wore. His hair was inky black and fell in his face in a rumpled mess that my mother would cringe just looking at, but it was his eyes that amazed me. They were the most startling shade of emerald green I'd ever seen in my life, and they burned with loneliness and longing that didn't belong in the eyes of a child. He seemed so utterly alone that I was taken aback by it.

"Watching," he shrugged, snapping me back to my senses and nodding toward the window. No one had noticed us fall, thank Merlin.

"Where are your parents?" I asked, looking around even though part of me knew I wouldn't find any.

"Dead," he shrugged, standing up and offering a hand down to me. I took it and he pulled me easily to my feet.

"Oh, sorry," I said, frowning and biting my lip. "You Hogwarts, too? First year?" I asked then, just to change the subject.

"Yeah. Do you know where I'm supposed to find Madam Malkin's Robe Shop For All Occasions?" he asked, reading off of the piece of paper in his hand.

"Yeah, it's right up the street on the left. You here on your own?" I asked. He shrugged again and nodded. "Well, my mum is busy in the apothecary. I have time to show you where everything is," I offered, starting down the street and nodding for him to follow. I'd forgotten all about the brooms.

"Thank you," he said, sounding sincerely relieved. It was my turn to shrug.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, by the way," I said, grinning with pride. If you couldn't be proud of being a Malfoy, what _could _you be proud of?

"I'm Harry Potter," he replied so casually that I almost didn't choke on my air and wheel to face him. Almost.

"_The_ Harry Potter?" I demanded, gaping at him in an entirely undignified fashion.

"No, the other one," he said with tired sarcasm, pushing his hair back form his forehead to reveal the lightening-shaped scar there. I took a steadying breath before sticking my hand out to him, still watching the boy with wide eyes. He shook it, smiling slightly. "I'm thinking of changing my name and having someone charm this thing invisible," he told me as our hands fell back to our sides.

"But you're famous!" I exclaimed in shock. "A hero."

"How would you like it if everyone stared at the end of your nose instead of looking you in the eyes?" he asked, frowning and running his fingers forward through his hair, as if making certain that his famous scar was thoroughly covered. "I hate people staring at my forehead."

"Then I won't," I promised solemnly. Understanding someone else's feelings was a new concept to me; caring about them was just too strange to bother considering. So I didn't. I led him down the sidewalk to Madam Malkin's, and on a whim I accompanied him inside.

"Hogwarts?" Madam Malkin asked. Harry nodded.

"Mr. Malfoy, I thought you'd already gotten yours," she said, frowning at me in confusion.

I shrugged at her. "Yeah, I did. I'm just here with him."

"You don't think your mother will wonder where you are?" Harry asked as Madam Malkin led him to step up onto a little platform and pulled a huge set of robes over his head.

"She's used to me wandering off," I said, unconcerned. "She won't worry," I added, since this seemed to be what Harry wanted to know. "I was going to the broom shop when I ran into you. Father is supposed to be buying me the newest Nimbus model, even though first years aren't supposed to have their own brooms. Do you have a broom?" I asked.

"No," he replied.

"Play Quidditch at all?" I asked.

"What's Quidditch?" he asked curiously.

"Well, it's a sport played on—why don't you know what Quidditch is?" I demanded, forgetting my explanation. He shrugged, staring pointedly at the wall while Madam Malkin pinned his sleeves up. "It's just a stupid rumor that you were sent to live with Muggles after your parents died, isn't it?" I demanded, not letting it go.

"No," he replied.

"Did they tell you about magic?" I asked quietly, rage boiling in my veins like poison, making me dig my fingernails into my palms and curl my toes painfully in my shoes.

"No," he said again. "I didn't know anything about magic or Hogwarts until a couple of days ago. The grounds keeper from Hogwarts brought me here, but he couldn't stay," he told me, casting a sad glance at me now.

"How could they let that happen?" I hissed, so angry I could barely breathe. "That's not right!" I exclaimed, startling Harry as well as Madam Malkin. As soon as I realized that I'd just let my emotions take control I squashed my anger and fixed an impassive mask on my face while Harry's robes were finished. He paid for them and we left. "You'll need to be in Slytherin, so I can watch out for you at Hogwarts," I told him as we headed for the book store, Flourish and Blotts.

"Er…thanks. What's Slytherin?" he asked. I sighed away a new burst of anger at the injustice of this boy's state before I replied.

"It's one of the four houses that Hogwarts students are divided into," I explained. "I'll be in Slytherin; my whole family has been. There's Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. You'll want to be in Slytherin," I told him. He nodded, taking this in.

"You didn't finish telling me about Quidditch," he reminded me hopefully as we went about finding his books. I nodded, and launched into a full explanation about the sport, leaving out no details about the four balls, the best teams, and the best brooms. I ended up reliving every Quidditch World Cup I could remember being to, grinning at the awed interest on my new friend's face.

He ended up buying a book on the Winchester Whirlwinds—the best team and my favorite—along with all his school books. After that, we went through getting potion ingredients, a cauldron, parchment and quills, a telescope, crystal phials, brass scales, dragon hide gloves, and a wand. By the time we got to the pet store, I was fully aware of the fact that my mother had probably been looking for me for quite some time; I was also aware of the fact that I didn't particularly care.

"So what's it going to be? A cat or an owl? I have an owl. They're bloody useful; carry your mail for you," I said as we stepped inside. Harry made a sound of delight when his eyes landed on a lovely white snowy owl, and there was no question about what he would get after that.

My mum found us not long after sunset, sitting on a bench eating raspberry flavored sherbet from the ice-cream shop and looking through Harry's new Quidditch book. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, where have you been?" a sharp voice demanded as I was jerked out of my seat by my ear.

"Oy! Lemme go!" I cried, managing to extract myself from her grasp with a minimal amount of pain.

"I have been looking for you for nearly half and hour!" Mum cried. "You told me that you would be in the broom shop!"

"I know, I'm sorry. See, I met Harry here, and he needed help finding his way around since he's never been here before," I explained, looking over my shoulder at Harry, who, by some unknown miracle, appeared to have caught my ice-cream cone when I'd dropped it. It was too bad I'd missed that; it had probably been an interesting catch. He looked guilty as well as a bit alarmed by my mother.

"Harry?" she repeated, looking around me at Harry, who managed to wave weakly at her.

"It's…nice to meet you ma'am," he said awkwardly, standing up and handing me my cone.

"Harry…Potter?" she asked slowly. Harry grimaced and pressed his hair down on his forehead self-consciously.

"Yeah," I replied for him. "You know the ridiculous rumors we heard about him being raised by Muggles? It was true! They let the Boy Who Lived be raised by Muggles who never even told him he was a wizard! Isn't that sickening?" I asked in a rush of righteous anger, blood rushing up into my face. "He needed some help. I just hoped you would be busy until I got back," I said more calmly when I saw how shocked my mother was by the outburst.

"Well, alright then, Draco," she said in resignation. "Come along now. It's time to go," she said. "How are you getting home?" she asked Harry then, surprising both of us.

"Oh, I'm going by the Underground," he replied, shuffling his feet in embarrassment at having to take Muggle means of transportation.

"I'll spare you the humiliation. Come on and I'll take you by side along Aparation," she offered, holding out both arms. I picked up one of Harry's bags and latched onto one my mother's arms. Apparently, she'd already sent my things home. Harry blinked in confusion.

"It's magical travel. It's kind of horrible and fun at the same time," I told him. "You might vomit." Harry kind of grinned, scooped up the rest of his bags and his own, and linked his arm through my "Where do you live?" she asked him.

"Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging," he recited.

Mum nodded. "Here we go," she said in warning, and then we were sucked into darkness. A second later we were standing on the lawn of a quaint Muggle house that was flanked on either side by dozens just like it.

"The people that live here are even worse," Harry said sadly when he saw my mother's expression of disgust. "Thank you for bringing me here, Mrs. Malfoy. And thank you, Draco, for showing me around Diagon Alley. Today has been brilliant," he told me brightly, taking his bag from my hands. "See you at Hogwarts."

"See you," I said calmly, even though every part of me was thrashing against leaving him in this place. Throughout the day, I'd glimpsed bits of him that were deeply bruised and cut, although the wounds weren't physical. I wished with all my heart that this boy had simply been born my brother, so that he would never have lost his parents and we could have been together our whole lives instead of just one afternoon. I watched him stride off toward the house, shoulders slumped and an air of despair about him. That was my last image of him before I was sucked back into darkness with my mother.


	2. Meeting Draco

AN: I realized that I hadn't explained how this story is going to work, so here it is! It's going to be in four-part first-person point of view. The point of view will change from Draco, to Pansy, to Harry, to Hermione, in no particular order. That's what I have planned, anyway.

This chapter is being posted kind of early, because my wonderful stupid boyfriend decided to disappear off of the face of the earth with no warning rather than coming to see me, so this, and part of chapter three were born. Pansy's past end up channeling a teensy bit of my general unhappiness. But my friends like it this way, so I suppose it's staying. Enjoy!

(This Chapter is from the point of view of Pansy Parkinson)

I liked the playground. I spent all my time there. But a playground is a perfectly normal thing for a kid to like, right? Wrong.

You see, my parents were strange, oblivious people that ignored each other. And their surroundings. And me. Our house was nice. Plenty of room for three people. Or rather, plenty of room for one person and two ghosts. My mother was an author, so she stayed holed up in her office for hours on end, typing away at her computer, completely unconscious of the world (and people) around her. My dad was a painter, so he had the same syndrome as my mom, and spent just as much time in his studio.

I guess that sometimes they must have gotten a creative block at the same time and managed to do something else every once in a while. Like conceive a child that neither of them had any idea what to do with.

I still believe that if I hadn't learned how to work the can opener and the microwave around the age of four, I would have slowly starved to death.

I never really liked the television, but that's what I usually ended up with. After I got over the fantasy of either of my parents entertaining me, I started leaving the house for long periods of time, wandering around the woods that surrounded it. I liked the sound that the leaves made under my feet, and the scent of the earth. The day was cloudy and cool, so I'd taken a sweater that was too large for me out of the closet in the hallway. That's how I discovered the playground.

It was empty, and so was the building behind it. I remember pulling my mom's sweater tighter around myself against the cold air as I crossed the gravel, the small rocks crunching under my shoes. The wind made the swings rock back and forth, creaking mournfully into the silence. Forming a right angle with the set of swings were monkeybars, cold and silent. There was a metal slide, but it was bent sideways and broken halfway down. Two animals, a horse and a hippo, rocked back and forth, their low metallic whining setting a different tempo than the swings. In the center of it all was a merry-go-round; it was the kind that you had to set spinning and jump on, and it would whirl you around.

They don't have many of those around anymore. I guess they were kind of dangerous. Lot's of opportunity for kids to be flung off or to smash their teeth out on the bars that were there to hold onto. I had seen a place like this on television, only then it had been full of color and children. This place was empty and looked as if all the color had been washed out of it, leaving behind only grays and dull reds and blues.

I walked over and sat down in one of the few swings with intact chains, moving my feet back and forth experimentally. The chains screeched in protest, but I didn't mind. I tilted my head back and regarded the pale, sunless sky, through bangs that hadn't been trimmed for too long. It was because the last time my mother had taken me to get my hair cut, I'd screamed and fought and bit the lady with the scissors. They didn't understand that I was afraid of her. That I was afraid of everyone. They didn't understand that being touched sent waves of panic through me, because I didn't understand it. My mother didn't understand because she was oblivious. The hairdresser didn't understand because she had no right to.

The playground sang to me on windy days, and on the days that it was silent I would sing to it instead. I didn't use words. I barely even knew that songs were supposed to have words, since the music my dad played while he painted didn't have words.

When I ventured to the building beyond the playground, I found all the same shades of gray that made me wonder if this place had ever been alive. I felt as if I were looking at the skeleton of something that had once been much more. The door lay open, hinges broken and frame bent, so I stepped inside. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I saw the hallway full of doors.

I tried to open one, but it was locked. I walked down the hall, my shoes making soft tapping noises into the silence, until I found a door that was ajar. I pulled it open, and found a room full of chairs and desks. The biggest desk was at the front of the room, to the side of a big blackboard. A school. This was a school. Like on television.

By the time I started school (one that wasn't abandoned) I was so used to being alone that the place terrified me. I'll never forget the first time I went. My dad got me dressed, gave me a bag, and put me in my car seat.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we pulled onto the road.

"I'm taking you to school," he told me happily.

It wasn't like the school I was used to—it was full of people and voices and colors and things I didn't understand. I begged my dad not to leave me there, but he did. I didn't know where to go once I was inside, so I stood in the doorway and people pushed past me. "Were you just dropped off?" a voice asked from above me as a lady I didn't know crouched down in front of me so that our faces were level. She had light blond hair and soft brown eyes, and a friendly smile on her face.

I was afraid of her. I nodded, staring at her and gripping my backpack to my chest. "It's alright, dear, I'll show you to your classroom. Are you starting preschool?" she asked, her voice too loud, holding her hand out to me. I didn't take it. I just stared at her; I didn't know the answer to her question. Her smile kind of faltered. "My name is Miss Amber. What's your name?"

I shook my head, taking a step away from her. "Is something wrong?" Miss Amber asked, looking uncertain. She was too loud. I felt like she was yelling at me. I nodded. "What is it?" she asked. I shook my head again and took another step away from her. "Are you scared?" Miss Amber asked. I nodded, taking another step away from her. "There's nothing to be scared of here," she said, smiling again. I didn't believe her.

She reached out for me, and I flinched away from her. There weren't any people left in the hallway now; they'd all gone into the rooms. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" she asked, frowning and letting her hand fall to her side. I shook my head. "Then why are you afraid?"

"Too much," I said, trying to think of words. I wasn't used to talking. "Too much noise…hurting my ears. Hurting my head. Too many people. To much moving. Too many voices. Too much!" I cried. Then the bell rang to signal that anyone left in the hallway was late for class, but I didn't know that. I screamed and clapped my hands on my ears; I'd never felt pain like that before. It was like someone was driving metal rods into my ears.

Miss Amber had caught me before I fell, but I didn't want her to touch me. The noise ended and I scrambled out of her arms. "No! No more! Please, don't do it again!" I screamed, covering my ears and stumbling away from her. Leaving my backpack where I'd dropped it, I turned around and ran faster than I ever had in my life, refusing to look back when Miss Amber screamed for me to come back.

"Hey," an unfamiliar voice broke into the memory I'd been lost in. "Mind if I sit down?"

I opened my eyes and blinked silently at the new arrival in my haven. I'd never seen him before. He was close to my age, though maybe a little older, with meticulously combed blonde hair and curious silver eyes. I tried not to think of all the reasons I wanted him to go away. "Whatever," I replied dispassionately. He nodded and sat down in the only other working swing of the set. I wished passionately that it hadn't been the one directly beside me.

"Do you usually spend your time here?"

"If you want friends, you should go somewhere else," I advised coldly, not looking at him.

"And why is that?" he asked, not sounding offended, as I would have hoped. Once someone had become suitably affronted, they usually left me alone.

"Because I don't like you," I replied.

"I don't believe you," he claimed, and when I turned to glare at him, he grinned. "I heard a couple Muggle kids talking about you. They say you're a demon, and anyone who touches you hurts," he said, his eyes wide with interest.

"I'll hurt you if you don't go away," I promised placidly, not concerned enough to ask what the hell a Muggle kid was.

"No you won't. Because we're alike, you and I are. You'll see soon. You're almost eleven, right? Me, too. We'll go to the same school," he told me with a grin.

"I don't go to school," I sneered.

"No, me neither. I wouldn't associate with Muggles." He paused to shiver in disgust, shaking his head. "I suppose you've had to, though, you poor thing," he said pityingly. "You have a couple of them for parents. Do you even know what a Muggle is? No, of course you don't." He sighed, shaking his head, as if at some great injustice. "I wouldn't speak to you, under normal conditions, but you're damn powerful. I've been watching you. I saw a boy throw a stone at you yesterday, and I saw you make him writhe in the dirt for it, too! I've never seen anyone do anything so brilliant without a wand!" he exclaimed, becoming increasingly excited with every word he said. "You practically used the Cruciatus Curse with your eyes!" he cried, his eyes wide with admiration.

"Are you loony? Wands? Curses?" I repeated.

"Yes, I know. You'll learn all about the magic world when you get your letter. The school we'll both go to is a school of magic. You're a witch, and I'm a wizard. That's why you can make those kids hurt that way. It's magic," he told me excitedly.

"Yep. You're loony," I nodded, but I couldn't keep myself from smiling. The expression was strange on my face, and lopsided from disuse. "Do you have a wand, boy?"

"Oh, yes. Oak and dragon heartstring—twelve inches," he said impressively, whipping it out of his sleeve. I could tell that he'd been waiting for me to ask.

"Show me some magic," I ordered, my eyes fixed on the piece of wood in his hand.

"I haven't been to school yet, girl," he said, but grinned smugly anyway. I knew strait away that he knew some magic.

"You called my parents Muggles, and the kids from here Muggles. That means people that aren't like you and me, doesn't it? People that aren't magic?" I asked. He nodded, impressed by my obvious cleverness. I grinned. "Then yours aren't. You have a witch and wizard for parents, don't you?"

"Of course. I'm a pureblood," he said haughtily.

"Then you must know lots of magic. You must be much cleverer than me," I said flatteringly. He nodded in agreement, and I knew I'd said just the right thing.

"Alright then. I'll show you something," he agreed, as if granting a great privilege. He paused to think about it, then stood and picked up a large rock that lay nestled in the gravel. "When I say, chunk this as hard as you can, strait up," he ordered, handing me the rock.

I nodded as I stood up and wound my arm back. He took a deep breath and nodded to me. I sent the rock flying strait into the air. I was sure it would hit him when it came back down, but he pointed his wand at the fist-sized projectile and shouted something that sounded like _obliviate_ or some nonsense word. I forgot all about asking if he was mental when white sparks shot from the end of his wand and the rock was blown into dust particles.

"That was brilliant. Where can I get one of those?" I asked, eyeing his wand greedily. He grinned.

"Diagon Alley," he replied. "Olivander's is the only place to buy a proper wand."

"Where's Diagon Alley?" I asked eagerly.

"You can get there plenty of ways—through the Leaky Caldron in Muggle London, or by flying, or Aparating, or Floopowder," he listed importantly. He was loving being so clever, and I had to admit he was rightfully so. I was hungry for everything he had to tell me, about every way that I was different from my disappointing parents.

"Flying? Can you fly?" I demanded eagerly.

"On a broom, yes," he nodded smugly. "I'm quite good at it, too. I have a Comit Two Sixty," he said proudly.

I nodded in admiration, even though I didn't have the slightest idea what that meant. It sounded something like a style of motorbike, so maybe magic brooms were something like that. "Will you take me flying?" I asked, sitting back down on my swing. He blinked in surprise at this request, then shrugged, the pale skin of his sharp cheekbones coloring slightly. "What? You weren't making it up, were you?"

"No, no. I have a broom, and I'll take you flying. I was just thinking about something my mum said," he said, and angry kind of embarrassment on his face as he sat down in the swing, gripping the chains and studying his feet with undue interest. I didn't know what to make of this.

"At least she speaks to you," I said generously, since he seemed to by angry with his mother. "How fast does your broom go? Can we fly to Diagon Alley?" I asked, swiftly changing the subject.

"It would be a lot easier to use Floopowder."

"What's that?"

"It's a magic dust. You stand in the fireplace, say wherever you want to go, and then you throw down a handful of it. It sucks you through to your destination."

"Cool," I decided happily.

"We would have to sneak through my house, and use the hearth in my living room, since my mum and dad would never let me go alone, and certainly not with you," he said regretfully.

"What's wrong with me, huh?" I demanded angrily.

"You're a Muggle born," he said pityingly. "But I know that you can't help it, and that you hate Muggles anyway, so you're alright. You have a Slytherin attitude." He sounded like he was trying to cheer up some terminally ill person.

"Maybe I wasn't Muggle born at all. Maybe there was some kind of horrible mix up at the hospital when I was born, and my real parents are out there right now, feeling pitiful over the poor Muggle daughter they got," I suggested, eager to believe it even as I made it up.

"If your parents were a witch and wizard, they wouldn't have been in a Muggle hospital," the boy said skeptically. "They would have gone to St. Mungo's."

"But…but…they could have been on holiday in Muggle London, and my mum could have gone into labor right there on the sidewalk. And she wouldn't be taken through any sort of fireplace, because she got all unreasonable not wanting me to be hurt by the smoke and such. So my dad didn't have any choice but to take her to a Muggle hospital to birth the baby. And they still believe it was that awful Muggle place that ruined their beautiful daughter, when really a couple of Muggles made off with me and they got the fluke," I invented enthusiastically, breathless with the tragedy of it all.

"Yeah. Yeah, anything could have happened. You could be a proper witch, after all!" he exclaimed, grinning wildly. He seemed infinitely relieved by that revelation. "And when we're at school, we can try to find out about a squib with the same birthday as you, so it can all be sorted out," he said, just as happy as I was about this newfound ray of hope.

"So when can we go get my wand?" I asked, grinning.

"Well, my parents are going to a party with their friends early tomorrow night, and they plan to leave me home alone. We can go then," he decided after thinking about it for just second. "If we're going to be friends, you had better tell me your name," he said then.

"Oh. It's Pansy Parkinson," I said, holding out a hand to him.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he said smugly as he shook it, and I realized right away that his family was important, and that he was used to people knowing it.

"Cool name," I said appreciatively. His smile was surprised, and I wondered if most people laughed when they heard it for the first time. It was a rather strange name. "You won't tell anyone at school that I live with Muggles, will you?" I asked anxiously.

His shook his head, a smile full of trustworthiness on his face. He was rather nice to look at, now that I took a moment to notice. "I won't tell a soul," he promised. "Not until we find your real parents, anyway. Then you can tell everyone about your suffering, and they'll think you've been awfully strong to have endured such plight. That's what I think. My friend, Harry Potter, has gone through the same torture, you know. Being raised by Muggles."

I raised an eyebrow at him. Something about the way he said _'my friend, Harry Potter'_ made me want to smile. He was practically bursting with pride. "Who's that?" I asked, because I knew he wanted to tell me. But I wanted to know, too.

"Okay, let me tell you the whole story." And he was off. By the time he was done talking, I was so ready to meat Harry Potter that I could barely stand it.

Ok, what did you make of my version of Pansy Parkinson's past? Weird and random? Stupid and boring?

I have no idea what you think! So review and tell me! :D


	3. Meeting Pansy

AN: Whoa, I forgot to post this chapter when I finished it! But the good news is that you get two chapters at once now! ^_^ hope ya like it!

(This Chapter is from the Point of View of Hermione Granger)

I sighed and pushed loose hair out of my face, wishing again that it wasn't such a bushy mess and immediately brushing off such a silly thing to wish for. I was sure that there was some kind of magical treatment for it. I grinned at the very thought. Magic. Not only did magic exist, but _I had it_. I could use it to make my hair pretty, and my teeth an average size, and I could read and read and learn so much more than I ever thought possible. I sighed at the thought, so happy I could barely stand it.

I blinked then, stopping in my tracks. Had I really been daydreaming? I never daydreamt. Oh, and look where it had gotten me! Where was I? For the first time that day, I wished I hadn't insisted on coming alone to buy my wizarding goods.

I was standing in a sort of alleyway, all shadows and full of rather scary-looking people. Some of them didn't look altogether human, but I didn't let myself panic. I could simply turn around and go back the way I'd come. I did just that, holding my head high and trying to convince myself that nothing bad was going to happen.

"Hey girly," a hoarse voice rasped as someone grabbed me by the arm. "You look lost." The person attached to my arm leaned forward, putting a face disfigured with burns right in mine. His breath smelled disgusting as it wafted over my face and I fought to keep calm.

"Oh no, I'm not lost," I said, proud of the fact that I kept the tremor out of my voice.

"Where you headed?" he asked, his grip tightening on my arm.

"Diagon Alley. But I'm making a stop here," I said, managing to wrench my arm from his grasp and dash into the nearest store. No one else was in the store. The hanging sign outside read "Borgin and Burks" and I hoped the junk-store quality of the window display meant that it was less threatening than the man standing outside it. He didn't follow me inside, so I walked around to look out the window to see if he had left yet. I found myself leaning to the side over a small table with one arm propped on the mantle of a chimneyless fireplace, craning my neck to look out a dingy window.

I was two seconds away from venturing back outside when a loud crash sounded from just beside me and my feet were knocked out from under me. My scream mingled with another as I fell to the floor and found myself tangled with another body.

After a few seconds of chaos and confusion, we disentangled ourselves and sat in the floor, staring at each other. My attacker was a really pretty girl of about my age. Her hair was sleek and black and covered with gray-green soot and dust from the floor, much like my mess of hair probably was. She had shiny blue eyes and a surprised look on her face.

"Is this Diagon Alley?" she asked after looking around to see if the racket we'd caused had drawn any attention. It hadn't.

"Well…I don't know. I was in Diagon alley, but I got lost," I told her, standing up and offering a hand down to her. She took it and I pulled her to stand up.

"I guess I didn't speak clearly enough," she sighed, then sneezed.

"Do you want to walk there together? This place is kind of dangerous," I told her, frowning towards the window.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"Hermione Granger," I replied, and we shook hands. "So what exactly happened for you to appear here?" I asked then as we made our way warily out into the street.

"Floopowder," she shrugged.

"What's that?" I asked curiously.

"It's powder that you throw down in the hearth, and say where you want to go, and it takes you there. But I didn't speak clearly enough, I guess, so it took me to the wrong place," Pansy explained. "Doesn't everyone use it?"

I blushed. "Well, my parents are Muggles," I admitted.

"Mine too," she said, blinking in surprise at me. "But this boy that lives near me, Draco, he's come with me to get my school supplies. He's probably waiting in Diagon Alley for me."

"Are you starting at Hogwarts, then?" I asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "I plan to be in Slytherin. There are four houses at the school, you see, and Slytherin is for only the cleverest students."

"Oh, I'm plenty clever," I boasted. "I've read more books than anyone."

"That's more like Ravenclaw; that's the house for really brainy witches and wizards. Then there's Gryffindor for the bravest, Hufflepuff for the hard workers, and Slytherin for the astute and high-class," she explained importantly. Her wizard friend, Draco, had probably told her all of that, but I didn't mind.

"Ravenclaw sounds good for me," I said, thinking hard. "Gryffindor sounds good, too. I don't back down, even if I do get afraid. And I work hard at whatever I do, so maybe I'll be in Hufflepuff."

Pansy grinned. "You're full of yourself. Definitely Slytherin," she said decidedly. I laughed.

"Ah, this is the place," I said then, grinning into the sunlight as we stepped out of the dark roadway and back into Diagon Alley. "That was Knocturn Alley. Let's not go back there anytime soon," I suggested.

"Agreed," Pansy said, nodding. "Now, I wonder where on Earth Draco could be."

"I could walk with you, if you want. We could try the bookstore first," I suggested, mostly since starting with books was the way I always went.

"Alright," she nodded, and we started out walking toward the Flourish and Blotts. "Why are you here by yourself, anyway?"

"Well, my parents are Muggles, you know, and they wouldn't have fit in here. I didn't want them to come," I sighed, wrinkling my nose in frustration. I felt bad about asking my parents to let me come alone, but still relieved that they'd consented. I was kind of embarrassed to be the daughter or Muggles, but for some reason it didn't seem to matter with this girl. That was good. I needed a friend.

"I haven't even told mine I'm a witch yet," Pansy shrugged. "They won't care. They never pay any attention to me."

"What are you going to do? Leave a note?" I asked incredulously. She shrugged indifferently. "Professor McGonagall, from the school, came to my house and explained to my parents. Maybe someone will go to your house."

"Maybe," she shrugged again. "Like I said-my parents won't care."

"If you say so," I said, letting it go. "My parents are dentists," I said then, just to have something to say.

"My mum is a writer; dad's a painter. They keep to themselves," she said uninterestedly.

"Oh my," I whispered, stopping outside the window of the bookshop.

"Bookworm?" Pansy guessed, grinning with amusement. I nodded mutely and let Pansy drag me toward the door by the hand. "Come on, Hermione." We walked into the store and the scent of parchment and book leather filled my senses. I sighed with pleasure as Pansy pulled me out of the way of a man walking out of the store.

"Do you see your friend?" I asked, looking around.

"No," she sighed. "And I don't know where else to check for him."

"I see a hearth; that's probably what its for, right? Floopowder travel. So it's likely that he came through here, and just went looking for you," I suggested, looking around in the same way that Pansy was. "What does he look like?"

"He has really white blonde hair, and he's pale. He's a bit of a pretty boy," she said, smiling affectionately as she said it.

"There's a blonde pretty boy on that staircase," I said, nodding up. The boy that was standing up there was frowning intently down at the crowd, obviously searching.

"Oh! Draco!" she called, pulling me through the crowd by the hand she had yet to release. She waved at him as we went, stepping up on the staircase.

"Pansy! Bloody hell, what happened to you?" he asked, stopping just a step away from her, grey eyes wide with shock and relief.

"I ended up in Knocturn Alley, a store called Borgin and Burks," she told him.

"I knew you'd get here if I waited," he said, grinning as if he were proud of her. I thought it was cute. They reminded me of siblings, sort of.

"I don't know if I would have, if Hermione hadn't been lost there at just the same time. I crashed into her when I came out of the fireplace. She knew the way back," Pansy explained, pulling me by my hand to stand on the step with her.

"I can see that you both fell into the soot," he said, grinning in amusement.

"Yeah. Hey, Draco, her parents aren't here either, so couldn't she just come along with us? We're going to all the same places, right?" I asked hopefully.

He laughed. "Sure. Why not?" And we were off.

As I'm sure you are all aware, I am not a mind reader, not to mention the fact that I have no idea who you are. So you should leave me a review! (please?) (:


	4. The Hogwarts Express

AN: Ok, fourth chapter up! Enjoy!

(This chapter is from the Point of View of Pansy Parkinson)

"Is that him?" I asked, pointing down over the railing.

"Where?" Draco demanded, redirecting his gaze in the direction I was pointing. We were in Grand Central Station, standing on the sort of bridge that ran across the main flow of traffic, scouring the throng below for a dark-haired boy and a snowy owl.

"There!" I cried, pulling him by his sleeve so that he was looking exactly where I was.

"Is it him?" Hermione asked excitedly, bouncing up and down beside me.

"Yes!" he exclaimed and the three of us raced across the bridge, down the stairs, and into the crowd. "Harry!" Draco called, waving his arms and grinning as the dark-haired boy's eyes found us and widened in delight and surprise.

"Draco! God, I'm glad you're here. How do you get to Platform 9¾?" he asked, so relieved he might have collapsed.

"Oh, it's right this way. Harry, these are my friends, Pansy and Hermione. Girls, this is Harry Potter," Draco said, gesturing back and forth between us.

I grabbed his hand and shook it. "Draco's told me all about you," I said. He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Draco had told me he didn't much like having the attention of his fame, so I made the comment about his persona rather than his fame. "He says your loads of fun. We're all going to be the greatest friends, I'm sure of it." Harry smiled at this, a kind of amazed expression.

"We need to get moving," Hermione reminded us. "How would it be to arrive late our first year?" We agreed and rushed toward the barrier between Platform Nine and Ten.

"Alright. You just need to get a running start and go right through it. Like this," I told Harry, since he was the only one who didn't know, and took off through the barrier. Hermione, Draco, and Harry followed. We quickly heaved his luggage onto the train and found the compartment where we'd left our things. We sat down just in time to hear the train whistle and feel it lurch.

"Cutting it close, huh?" Draco asked Harry, who shrugged.

"Draco was determined to wait for you, even if it meant we all missed the train," Hermione said as we watched the platform disappear on the other side of the window.

"Sorry for being trouble, but thank you for waiting or I never would have made it onto the train," Harry said, smiling gratefully at the blond.

"I didn't even realize it might be a problem until I had to explain it to Pansy. Then we went back to wait, and showed Hermione through. And went back again for you," Draco explained.

"I owe you one," Harry nodded seriously.

"I know," Draco replied with a wicked grin that made Harry chuckle. They were already great friends; it had taken them all of ten minutes to settle into being totally at ease.

"How did it go with your parents, Pansy? Telling them, I mean?" Hermione asked me then.

"Fine," I sighed. "I said something like, _'I'm a witch, and I'm going to magic school. Here's my letter.' _He picked it up, looking surprised in his vague way and said something like, _'Well, isn't that something?'_ and agreed that it all looked to be in order and asked if I would be coming home for holidays. I told him no. They've given me loads of spending money, though, so I can't complain. I can't wait to get to Hogwarts," I told her, my last words coming out wistful and soft as apposed to the general boredom I felt and exuded for any subject involving my parents.

"I've already tried a few spells, and it went well," Hermione told me, following my line of sight eagerly out the window, as if we were already hoping to see the school.

"I've already read the school books," I boasted happily.

"So have I," she replied, grinning back at me.

"I bet I beat you in our very first test," I countered.

"I bet you both get perfect marks, as much as you study," Draco sneered playfully, poking me in the side. "But we all know that you're just trying to compensate for your Muggle blood."

"Don't be mean, Draco," I chided, poking him back. "It's all due to hospital mix ups. That's how the world ends up with Mudbloods and Squibs," I said.

"You shouldn't say that," Draco said quickly, looking uncomfortable. "It means dirty blood. Common blood. It's really a horrible thing to say; don't use it to refer to yourself or Hermione. You're better than that."

"Magic is magic, right?" Hermione agreed as the compartment door was slid open.

"Would you like something?" an elderly witch pushing a cart full of brightly colored sweets asked us. We did, of course.

We piled all of our candy together in the two empty seats, one between Draco and me and the other between Harry and Hermione. I instantly fell deeply in love with the Honey Bubblers, and all four of us managed to make ourselves at least a little bit sick to the stomach before we stopped eating. "God, my parents would have heart palpitations," Hermione observed as she ate another chocolate frog.

"Why?" I asked, popping another little golden-colored honey sweet into my mouth and letting it bubble on my tongue.

"They're dentists," she shrugged. "They tend to people's teeth," she explained, due to the confused look on Draco's face.

"Their teeth?" he repeated. "Is that dangerous?"

"Only if someone decides to bite them," Hermione grinned. "But the point is that sugar rots the teeth, and I'm usually not allowed it. I'm going to fix my teeth as soon as I figure out how. They're beastly, aren't they?" she asked, bearing them at me. Her two upper front teeth were quite a bit larger than the rest of them, but other than that they were perfectly white and strait.

"I've seen worse," I shrugged.

"Easy for you to say-your teeth are perfect," she sighed. "And your hair is strait and shiny. I'll fix mine that way, too."

"But your hair is so cool! I could do something fun with it. Come over here and sit in front of me," I ordered. The boys had receded into their own conversation that sounded as if it were centered around some sort of sport that I wasn't too terribly interested in.

"You promise not to make me look awful on purpose?" she asked suspiciously. I laughed and nodded, and she moved to sit with her back against my knees. Her hair really was wavy and tangled, but it was also a wonderful dark honey color that I knew I could make lovely with a little work. First, I tried smoothing it into a ponytail, which was a disaster so wild that the boys paused in their conversation to marvel at it.

"I told you," she said in a disheartened tone, but I wasn't ready to give up.

"One more try. I might pull your hair a bit with this," I warned, then went to work again. Before I touched her head, I sat and stared at it for a long moment, concentrating with all my might on numbing it. Then I reached forward and gave a lock a firm tug. She didn't even wince. Excellent.

I set to work, frowning meditatively as I coaxed her wild hair down and into order. I grinned in triumph when Hermione gaped at her reflection in my hand mirror. "It's…it's…wow. Oh, wow. Can you do this every day?" she asked, turning it at different angles and running her fingers over it. Braiding had fascinated me the first time that I'd seen it on television, so I'd looked it up on my mother's computer while she was asleep and practiced on dolls. Hermione's hair was fixed in about two dozen perfect cornrows, close to her pale scalp.

"Yeah, if you want me to," I said happily. "But remember-you'll have to be in Slytherin if we're to have any time in the mornings."

"You mean if we're to be friends," Hermione corrected, pressing her lips together and waiting for me to agree. I knew at once that this wasn't how she wanted it to be, but she was aware enough to know that this was how Draco and I thought. Anyone who wasn't in Slytherin wasn't worth our time. But I really liked Hermione…

"I'll be your friend, even if you're in Ravenclaw. You probably will be; you're awfully clever," I said, smiling at her. She grinned back.

"God, just don't be in Gryffindor. Please," Draco sighed. "We'll be a sorry lot, trying to be friends between Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"I don't want to be in Ravenclaw alone," Hermione said suddenly, looking around at us. My heart sank.

"Well I…_suppose _I could try for being with you, if I had to," I conceded. "But please can't you just try to be in Slytherin?"

"Oh, but Slytherin just sounds like such a mean lot," she sighed.

"I'd like to think my mother is quite nice," Draco piped up again, now frowning in alarm. "And we don't need to be all broken up and separated. People in different houses just don't stay friends; it's way harder than you realize. So we'll all just be in Slytherin and be done with it, right?"

We all nodded, Hermione somewhat reluctantly. "Let's none of us ever be Death Eaters!" Hermione exclaimed in a rush. I frowned in confusion, and saw my expression mirrored on Harry's face. But Draco had a look of shock on his face. He knew exactly what she meant, and didn't like it a bit. "I've read about the time when this horrible wizard, Voldemort-"

"Don't say that name!" Draco cried.

"_You see_-people are even afraid of his name, he was so awful. He killed so many people and did horrible things with magic. But the thing is, all of his followers came from Slytherin, and they were called Death Eaters. Let's never be horrible and evil. We can be in Slytherin and never be Dark wizards, right?" she asked, like she was on the brink of tears.

"Of course we can," I assured her, taking her hands in mine. "We don't want to hurt anyone, right guys?" I asked, turning to Harry and Draco.

"No we don't," Harry nodded, his bright green eyes full of trustworthiness as he smiled reassuringly at Hermione. I

"I…right. Of course," Draco agreed, a pained grin on his face.

"I think we'd better change into our school robes soon," I said, just to change the subject. I had no idea how close we may or may not have been to the school. It was surprisingly funny when Hermione and I kicked the boys out into the hall to change, then had to stand out there ourselves while they did. We got resettled and were finishing off the last of our sweets when a voice rang through the train telling us that we'd be at Hogwarts in fifteen minutes, and that all of our luggage and animals would be taken up to the castle for us if we would simply leave them on the train.

The last fifteen minutes of the trip were excruciating. We sat in silence, staring out of the window at what I supposed was the general direction that the castle would be in, each lost in our own thoughts. Somewhere in between all my anxieties over the Sorting, I recognized we probably wouldn't all be in the same house, and there was nothing I could do about it.

When the train finally screeched to a halt, we pushed our way into the myriad of students in the corridor, and moved with the sea of people onto the platform. The four of us paused, looking around at each other, unsure of what we should do next.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a voice boomed over the crowd. I gaped. The man calling us was nearly twice the size of a normal man, and three times as wide. He had bushy black hair and beard, streaked with gray.

"Hagrid!" Harry called jubilantly, jumping up and down a bit and waving. Hermione was gripping my sleeve, to pull herself along with me, since the crowd kept threatening to separate us.

"All right there, Harry?" the giant grinned down at us as we joined the other first years. "Any more firs' years? C'mon, follow me, and mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, we followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. Harry, Draco, Hermione, and I hung onto each other as we made our way down, as if afraid we would be separated in the darkness.

"Yeh'll get yer first good sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid, called over his shoulder, "just round the bend here."

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. "Wow," I heard Hermione whisper appreciatively along with everyone else.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. The four of us clambered into a boat and waited.

"There's supposed to be a giant squid in this lake, you know," Hermione said quietly.

"_Really_?" I demanded, more excited than scared.

"It won' eat yeh," Hagrid said from his boat, and though I couldn't see his face clearly, I was fairly sure that he was smiling. And then, in a louder voice, "Everyone in? Right then—FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which parted around us like breaking glass. We were all silent, staring up at the castle overhead. It towered over us as we sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff. Ours was one of the last boats, and we bent our heads and the little boats carried us through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. We were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking us right underneath the castle. The only light came from Hagrid's lantern, bobbing along far ahead of us. I could hardly see Hermione in front of me, and I had the sudden urge to reach out and touch her, just to make certain that she was still there.

I squashed this urge as we reached a kind of underground harbor, where we clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. We followed Hagrid up a passageway in the rock after his lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? Good." Hagrid raised his gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

Ok, who'd ready for the Sorting? The next chapter should be up in a couple of days, since I think it will probably be fairly short. But while you're waiting, how about you leave me a review and tell me what ya think so far? :D


	5. Sorted Out

(AN: omg I really need to stop forgetting to update. I've had this done, and the next chapter should be up either later tonight or sometime tomorrow. This chapter was easy, since a good chunk of it came directly from the book. *shrugs* heh. Oh, and I'm sorry about mistakes in this. No one is proofreading it for me lol)

(This Chapter is from the Point of View of Hermione Granger)

The door swung open at once. A tall witch in brilliant emerald robes stood there, gazing down at us. My first thought was that she was no one to be trifled with, with her strait nose and stern expression.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said. "I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was enormous. The white stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing us led to the upper floors.

We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. I could hear the hum off hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right-that must be where the rest of the students were already seated-but Professor McGonagall showed us into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We crowded in, standing a bit closer together than we would usually have done, peering around nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses." She went on to explain the importance of the sorting, about the four houses, and house points. "The Sorting will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I shall return for you shortly. Please wait quietly." She left the chamber.

At the sounds of gasps for the others in the room, I looked up to see about twenty ghosts streaming through the wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. I wasn't listening to them, instead looking over them all with great interest. I had read about the many ghosts of Hogwarts, and this was his first time I'd ever seen any in person. I decided that they were fascinating, and resisted the urge to reach up and touch one, knowing my hand would simply go through.

The ghosts offered only a moment of distraction before I reminded of the approaching Sorting. I swallowed hard trying to quell the nauseous feeling in my stomach. "See you on the other side," I whispered playfully to him when Professor McGonagall returned for us, leading us through the double doors into the Great Hall.

It was lit by thousands of floating candles over the four house tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with golden plaits and goblets that glittered in the candlelight. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. At the center of the table, in the chair with the highest back, I recognized Albus Dumbledore from his chocolate frog card. According to his card, he had defeated a dark wizard named Grindelwald, discovered twelve uses for dragon's blood, and worked on alchemy with someone named Flamel. I never forgot anything I read, especially when it was so interesting.

I noticed Pansy gazing at the ceiling, which looked amazingly like the night sky, complete with a few stray clouds blurring the stars. "It's not really the sky. It's a spell. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_," I whispered to her. She grinned at me and nodded, and I realized that she'd probably read it, too.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of us. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat that looked as if someone had tied it to the back of their car and driven down the street with it dragging the ground. It was torn and patched and frayed and singed. I doubted that my mother would have let the thing in the house. We all stared at it for an endless moment, then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat began to sing.

"_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,But don't judge on what you see,I'll eat myself if you can findA smarter hat than can keep your bowlers black,Your top hats sleek and tall,For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting HatAnd I can cap them all. _

_There's nothing hidden in your headThe Sorting Hat can't see,So try me on and I will tell youWhere you ought to might belong in Gryffindor,Where dwell the brave at heart,Their daring, nerve, and chivalrySet Gryffindors apart;You might belong in Hufflepuff,Where they are just and loyal,Those patient Hufflepuffs are trueAnd unafraid of toil;Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,if you've a ready mind,Where those of wit and learning,Will always find their kind;Or perhaps in SlytherinYou'll make your real friends,Those cunning folks use any meansTo achieve their put me on! Don't be afraid!And don't get in a flap!You're in safe hands (though I have none)For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. I saw Draco and Harry share a glance, then turn their attention back to the front. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. I saw the ghost of a Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them. I looked over them carefully, wondering if that was where I'd go. Then I looked back at my friends and sighed sadly. This was awful.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw, too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

"Bulstrode, Millicent," became a Slytherin. I looked them over in the same way I had the Ravenclaws, and my opinion might not have been completely unbiased, but they did look like an unpleasant lot.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Then, inevitably, "Granger, Hermione!"

I walked up to the stool and pulled the hat onto my head. "Now what have we here?" a voice murmured inside my head. "Friends to be in Slytherin? That's no place for you."

_I know. I suppose I'm on my own, then? _I wondered in reply.

"A brave heart is never alone. Better be GRYFFINDOR!" the last word was shouted to the whole school, and I was in a daze as I walked over to the table and sat beside the Lavender girl that had come just before me. I looked over to Pansy, who was turned around to face me looking utterly miserable. The next few students went through their Sorting, until "Malfoy, Draco," was called.

The hat was placed on his head, and it took only a moment of hesitation before it shouted "SLYTHERIN!"

I stared at Pansy, who looked absolutely sick, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears. I wasn't feeling much better. Then Harry put his hand on her shoulder, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. Her expression became amazement, and she nodded, looking as if she'd rather like to hug him. I wondered what had just happened right up until the moment that Pansy was called up, and after the longest pause yet, was Sorted into Slytherin.

I sighed. Three more, and it was Harry's turn. People on the table where whispering excitedly, all knowing who he was and hoping he would be in our house. But I already knew where he would be going, just like Draco and Pansy. My assurance faltered when he turned and beamed at me, his bright green eyes full of sadness, just before the hat dropped over his eyes. The seconds ticked by. And then, sending my heart leaping in my chest, the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"

The table erupted in cheers, and I could hear two red-headed boys yelling "We got Potter, we got Potter." It was by far the loudest welcome anyone had gotten so far, and Harry managed to smile as he took the seat beside me. "Oh, thank you, Harry," I whispered, doing my best not to cry as he smiled at me. "You're a great friend."

"I couldn't just leave you, could I?" he replied, still grinning. I beamed back at him, and we turned and met the eyes of Draco and Pansy, who were staring at us from the other end of the hall. I didn't think it had ever been so far.

AN: So. I'm not sure if I'm happy with this. It seems a little too close to the actual books to me. I think I'll keep it as it is, and just write a different story that branches off with Harry going into Slytherin. Maybe. I don't know.

Oh, and a friend of mine threw inspiration into my brain about switching out Harry and Neville. Neville being the Chosen One, and Harry being the kid whose parents get tortured into insanity by Bellatrix. (he's raised by Sirius). It's lot's of fun, and I'm not bored with it yet. Both of these are kind of half-baked and probably won't be finished. But I know what I'm doing all the way through with this one, so have no fear! Lol unless you don't care, which I hope you do. Tell me? Review? Please?


	6. How It's Going to Be

(AN: okay, so I've realized that I'm not so good at updating when I say I will. And I looked up my own story, and realized that there was nothing dividing my comments from the rest of the actual story. So, I'm sorry if that was stupid and/or confusing, so I'm attempting to fix it)

(This Chapter is from the Point of View of Harry Potter)

I woke up with an unhappy jolt, my eyes flashing open into semi-darkness. I sighed immediately as the memory of the Sorting returned to me with painful clarity. I had managed to lose two of the only friends I'd ever had, and the loss was evident in the hollow feeling in my chest. But if the four of us were ever going to stick together, a single one of us couldn't be singled out in a separate house. I had refused to abandon Hermione, who'd been so afraid of being alone. We could manage on our own if our Slytherin would-be friends were no longer with us.

I looked at my wristwatch and sighed; it was five o'clock in the morning. I got up and pulled on my robes, knowing I wouldn't be sleeping anymore that night. As far as Mondays went, I hoped this one wouldn't suck as much as I thought it would. The rest of the guys in the Gryffindor dormitory were still asleep, so I took my potions books-_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, and then _Magical Drafts and Potions_-with me down into the common room. As I reached the bottom of the staircase that lead up to the dorms, I recognized a head of tightly braided light brown hair in one of the chairs. I wondered how on earth she'd slept with her hair like that.

"Morning, Hermione," I said quietly into the silence. She jumped at the sound of my voice and turned in her chair to look at me.

"Oh. Good morning Harry. I wasn't expecting anyone else to be up for ages," she told me as I waked over to her.

"I couldn't sleep. Can I sit?" I asked, nodding at the chair beside hers. There were three books piled on the small table between the two chairs.

"Of course," she said, smiling.

"How long have you been up?" I asked as I sank down into the soft, red-velvety armchair.

"Since around four o'clock," she sighed. "I couldn't fall back asleep, so I though I might as well do something constructive."

"Same," I said, pushing my potions book open to the first page. "Draco said that potions was a difficult course, and that he'd help me with it if I needed," I told her quietly, staring unseeingly at the words on the page. "But I guess I'll be doing without his help."

"I'm so sorry that you felt like you needed to follow me into Gryffindor, Harry," she said sadly. "But it does prove how brave you are—maybe you're supposed to be here. I'm not brave. I was afraid of being in Slytherin."

"You knew it wasn't right for you. And they did look like a mean lot," I admitted, sighing. "And it's alright, Hermione." We lapsed into silence, and I plowed into the first chapter of the potions book. Around six o'clock, people started filing out of their dormitories, and Hermione and I headed to breakfast.

We only got lost once, and ended up on the third floor. "This is the forbidden corridor that the Headmaster mentioned at dinner last night," Hermione realized aloud.

"I wonder what could be in there," I wondered, trying the door just because I could. It didn't budge, of course.

Hermione rolled her eyes at me. "Come on, Harry."

We still made it to the Great Hall fairly early. Our first class of the day was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, so we spent most of our time discussing the first chapter of the book. Three of the other Gryffindor boys arrived later, sitting near us. Seamus, Dean, and Ron. They felt very separate from us, though. Maybe it was just because I resented their initial reaction to my identity and scar, which seemed to be the exact same thing in their eyes. Neville, who was timid and awkward, sat with us. He was alright, really, when you got past the dull-wittedness he exuded.

"You're early," Professor McGonagall observed when Hermione and I walked into her classroom ten minutes before anyone else.

"Yes, Professor. The Great Hall was getting really crowded," Hermione replied as we took the two adjoined seats at the front of the classroom. What she meant was that I'd become extremely uncomfortable with the number of people staring at me, so we'd just come to class. We got our books out again and finished the first chapter. Hermione read a lot faster than I did, but we stayed close enough in place to whisper a question or comment to each other.

Throughout the class, Hermione and I found out just how well we worked together. We both managed to turn our matchsticks into needles complete with eye, earning us five points for Gryffindor.

The second class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which had the potential to be a truly interesting class, but it was taught by a stuttering, turban-clad joke named Quirrell. He gave me a weird feeling, but I attributed it to the strong scent of garlic in the classroom.

Then came Herbology with Professor Sprout. After lunch was History of magic, which was beyond boring. I managed to stay awake with some effort. Then Charms, which was taught by squeaky little Professor Flitwick. After that came the last class of the day, as well as the one I wasn't sure if I wanted to look forward to or dread-Double Potions with the Slytherins, taught by Professor Snape.

Hermione and I were, surprisingly, not the first people in the classroom. Draco and Pansy were sitting hunched over a book in the first desk on the right side of the aisle that was obviously meant to separate Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Any anxiety I'd had about how tense it might have been between us evaporated when Pansy looked up and grinned with what looked like genuine pleasure. "Oh, hey guys. Was History of Magic a bore, or what?" she asked.

"We stayed awake," I said, relieved. Hermione and I took the first desk on the left of the aisle. "Barely."

"I think we have Double Astronomy with you. Wednesday nights at midnight," Pansy said, looking down at her schedule. "And Double Flying Lessons on Friday, too."

"Cool," I nodded. "Have a favorite class yet?" I asked.

"Oh, I loved Charms. My feather moved before anyone else's!" Pansy exclaimed, grinning.

"I fancy Transfiguration," Hermione said, smiling back at her. "Harry and I both managed needles."

"I think I like Herbology," I said thoughtfully. "But I've been waiting all day for this class."

"Yeah, same here," Draco said quietly, his gaze fixed on his book. Other people started filing in then, and we fell silent. I came to the conclusion then that we would be okay, but it couldn't be the same as it would have been if we'd all been in the same house. I could deal with that, as long as we were still all friends.

Friday, I got a note from Hagrid.

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an owl back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

I borrowed Hermione's quill and scrawled _Yes, please, see you later_. "Do you want to meet Hagrid?" I asked Hermione, Draco, and Pansy on the Quidditch pitch, where we were all having flying lessons today.

"Is he the giant that took us across the lake?" Pansy asked eagerly.

"Yeah," I said, grinning.

"Wicked! What do you think, Draco?" she asked him.

"Sure," he said in his cool manner.

"What time?" Pansy asked.

"Three," I replied, grinning.

"Line up next to a broom!" Madam Hooch ordered as she strode out onto the pitch, ending the conversation. We obeyed. "Now I want you to hold one hand over your broom and say _'up' _like you mean it. And go!" She blew her whistle.

I grinned when my broom hopped into my hand on the first try. The Slytherins were standing opposite us, so I could see that Pansy and Draco's brooms had both easily obeyed. Hermione's leapt into her hand on about the fourth try.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, I want you all to mount your brooms, kick off from the ground, hover for a moment, then return!" she told us sternly. With that, she put the whistle to her lips and blew. I kicked off, and at once an amazingly light, wonderful feeling spread right through my chest and I flew a couple of feet off the ground before I caught myself and sank back down.

I turned and grinned at Hermione, who was looking rather put out. It wasn't until she did another partial hop in place that I realized that her feet hadn't even left the ground. I didn't get a chance to say anything regarding this, since my attention was drawn by a shout from Madam Hooch.

"Longbottom! Get back down here this instant!"

Looking up, I saw that Neville was drifting further and further off the ground and away from the group, looking rather alarmed. "I can't! Help me!" he cried as he flew still higher. Someone screamed and we all watched in horror as he lost his grasp on the broom, slid sideways, and plummeted to the ground, landing with a sickening thud and lying there in an unmoving heap as we ran toward him. His broomstick continued to drift lazily away toward the forbidden forest.

It took a couple of minutes for Madam Hooch to sort out the ensuing chaos and find out that Neville's arm was broken. "I'm taking him to the Hospital Wings. Anyone who's feet leave the ground while I'm gone will be on the train home tomorrow!" With that, she began pulling the semi-conscious Neville along behind her into the school.

"Did you see that great lump?" a voice rang out from behind me, and I turned around to find all the Slytherins laughing, some so much so that they were doubled over and holding their sides. The speaker was a Black boy with cold inky eyes; I recognized him as Blaise Zabini. "Look what he's lost," he said, and held up a glass ball the size of a marble. Neville's Remembrall. With a sinking feeling, I realized that one of us was going to have to get it back from him.

"What do you think, Draco?" Zabini chuckled then, and threw the Remembrall. Draco snatched it out of the air and grinned back at him.

"I think he's forgotten something," Draco sneered, tossing it up and catching it again.

"Give it here," I said quietly. Draco's eyes snapped to me, and cold anger flashed in them.

"And what are you going to do if I don't, Potter?" he demanded.

"I'm going to take it from you," I replied evenly.

"You know, I think I should leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it. Like...up a tree," he sneered, throwing his leg over the broom in his other hand and kicking into the air. Scowling at him, I mounted my own broom.

"Harry, you can't! You'll be expelled!" Hermione cried, making a grab for my sleeve. But I was already out of reach, shooting up into the air to hover level with Draco high over the heads of our classmates.

"Just give me the Remembrall!" I yelled at him.

"You should have been in Slytherin, Potter!" he yelled back, his face flush with rage. Then he cocked his arm back and sent the Remembrall soaring through the air. I flattened myself to my broom and shot after it. I turned vertical to the ground, diving at an insane speed, one arm stretched out in front of me. I brought my broom horizontal at the last possible moment, feeling my fist close around the cool ball of glass. Cheers erupted from the Gryffindors as I landed back with them, holding the Remembrall up in the air and hopping off my broom.

Hermione leaped at me, hugging me tightly. "You idiot! You could have killed yourself!" she fussed over the sound of cheering and around people clapping me on the back and messing up my hair.

I grinned at her, still riding an adrenaline rush like nothing I'd ever known. But over her shoulder, I could see Draco staring coldly at me past a distraught Pansy. _Fine, _I thought angrily, _If that's how it's going to be, then fine._

"Mr. Potter!" a sharp voice shouted over the din, and a sudden hush fell over the crowd of students as Professor McGonagall strode into the circle. "Come with me," she said sternly. The faces around me, which had been jubilant only seconds before, were now grave. Well, most of them. Hermione was outright crying. Behind McGonagall's back, the Slytherins were jeering at me. Well, most of them. Pansy appeared to be somewhere between anger and tears as she addressed Draco, whose back was turned to me.

I turned my back on him in turn, and followed Professor McGonagall into the castle. It was clear that we wouldn't remain friends, after-all. I was numb as I followed McGonagall through the castle halls, thinking of what it would be like to go back to the Dursley's with a broken wand after knowing magic and friendship for the first time in my life.

_I won't,_ I thought suddenly. _I'll join a circus. I'll enroll myself in an orphanage. I won't go back there. I won't._ My mind made up, I spent the rest of the walk bracing myself for the horror of having my wand broken.

So I was confused when she stopped at the door of a classroom and asked for someone named Oliver Wood. A boy I'd never seen before was produced from the classroom, looking curiously at me. "Wood," Professor McGonagall addressed the boy. "I've found you a Seeker."

(Okay, reviews please? I'm posting chapter 7 now, because I love you! :D)


	7. Cerberus

(AN: So, here's chapter seven!)

(This Chapter is From the Point of View of Draco Malfoy)

"Having a last meal, Potter?" I sneered at Harry at dinner later that day. Crabbe and Goyle scowled at him from my left and right, like giant bodyguards. In a way, I'd earned them with my first act against Gryffindor.

"It would be your fault if he were," Hermione snapped at me when Harry acted as if he hadn't heard my voice. But I caught that she said this as if he hadn't been expelled, and had to choke back a sudden surge of relief. _I hate him, _I reminded myself sternly. _I __**wish **__he'd been expelled. _"Some bloody friend you are, Malfoy. Is Pansy still speaking to you?"

I felt the blood rise into my cheeks, but I didn't answer her…because Pansy _wasn't _speaking to me. _"If that's how you treat your friends, then I want nothing of you. Just stay away from me," _she'd informed me tremulously there on the Quidditch pitch, her bright blue eyes wet with unshed tears. God, I had never felt this alone before they'd come along. And now I'd lost all three of them, and I could barely stand to look at myself in the mirror for the morose expression that I could only seem to mask behind distain.

"Does everyone hate you so much that you need bodyguards?" Harry asked emotionlessly, shooting me a cold look through his bangs.

I contorted my face into a heavy sneer to hide the way my heart twisted. God, I wanted him to hurt the way that I was hurting. "I'll take you on anytime on my own, Potter," I replied, my voice betraying none of the emotions that hung with crushing heaviness in my chest. Malfoys did not emote; cool exteriors were expected. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only-no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?" I asked. I felt a tinge of lingering anger at his being sent away to Muggles, and had to remind myself that this was cause for distain for him, not this horribly deep empathy.

"Of course I have," he lied bravely. That stupid, _stupid _boy would plow into _anything_ headfirst and totally blind. Who would protect him if I didn't? But then I knew: Hermione. He'd chosen her friendship over mine to begin with. Tears of rage and jealousy pricked at my eyes just thinking about it, but I wouldn't cry. Malfoys didn't cry.

"Fine. Who's your second?" I asked, planning to catch him in his lie. But of course, much to my horror, he connected enough dots to reply easily.

"Hermione," he answered without a moment's hesitation. God, was I ever jealous of his trust in her! If that damn boy had only been in Slytherin, like he was supposed to have been, it would be me that he trusted so fully. I _should _have been me! If I didn't do something to remedy this, these feelings would surely kill me eventually. Hermione's jaw fell open but she snapped it closed at once, and I knew that she would be there. Her anger at my betrayal of hers and Harry's friendship was greater than her fear of expulsion. Was this what it was to be hated? It had never sounded so bad before, but now I didn't think I could stand it. But Malfoys did not go mad.

"Midnight, then. In the trophy room; it's always unlocked." With that, I turned and walked away.

That night, I snuck out of the boy's dormitory and strode silently across the common room.

"What the bloody hell is the matter with you?" a voice demanded in a shrill whisper. I jumped and wheeled around to find Pansy standing behind me in her nightdress with a jacket and trainers.

"Go back the bed, Pansy," I advised, walking toward to the door again.

"You're planning to fight Harry?" she demanded, a sob embedded in her voice. "Why? Why are you doing this, Draco? I don't understand!"

"I have to," I replied simply. There was no way that I could explain to her the pain that had me needing desperately to either lash out or get down on my knees and beg forgiveness. But Malfoys never begged. Pansy followed me out of the common room and into the dungeons. "How did you find out about it?"

"I heard Crabbe and Goyle mumbling in their stupid way about you not having a second," she shrugged. "Whatever that means."

"My second would take over and finish the duel if I died. So unless you want to be my second, go back to the common room," I ordered, almost hoping that she would agree. I could have one friend, at least.

"I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life!" she shrilled, completely incensed by the very notion. I supposed she hated me as well, then.

"Are you trying to get us caught?" I whispered furiously. She followed me the rest of the way to the trophy room, all the time hissing like an angry goose. "Hush! I heard something," I whispered when we were just outside the trophy room, holding up my hand to silence her. She bit her bottom lip and glared at me.

"Sniff around my pet. I'm sure someone is out of bed tonight," the raspy voice of Filch, the caretaker, reached us. I met Pansy's terrified gaze for just a second before we both turned and ran. I nearly cried out in surprise and heard Pansy gasp when we rounded a corner and almost bowled over Hermione and Harry.

"It's Filch," I hissed before either of them could say anything, grabbing Harry's sleeve and wheeling him to run with us. He did so, as did Hermione, who was running hand-in-hand with Pansy. I released Harry and we dashed up a flight of stairs. We paused, panting and listening. Then we heard footfalls on the stairs and I met Harry's wildly terrified gaze with my own. There were no thoughts of enmity now; only escape.

"Alohamora," I heard Pansy whisper, and then there was a click.

"In here," Hermione ordered, and we all bolted inside. I turned around to face Harry while Pansy and Hermione listened at the door. For a moment I was frozen in shock. A few yards behind Harry rested the face of a gargantuan dog. My heart stopped beating as the dog head, and two more just like it, rose up and glared at us with eyes like glowing embers.

"He's gone," Pansy whispered, breaking my trance as well as the dog's. I don't know who moved first, but I lurched forward, knocking Harry to the side at the same time that a set of enormous jaws closed around the space that he had inhabited only seconds before. We sprawled on the floor together, an immobile tangle until I felt a pair of hands on my arm, dragging me up. Harry came with me as we scrambled out of the room and into the deserted corridor.

"What was that?" Pansy hissed hysterically.

"In Greek Myths, there was a three-headed dog that guarded that gates of Hades named Cerberus. I think that was him," Hermione said breathlessly.

"And he _was _guarding something," Harry said shakily, staring at me. "Did you see it?" he asked me. His green eyes glowed in the darkness as he looked at me, his bright gaze burning into me. I'd just saved his life. I had rips in my robe to show what we'd barely missed. He owed me a life debt now, but he wouldn't have any idea what a powerful magical principal that was once it was finalized. And he never would, because he was raised by Muggles, and because I wouldn't tell him.

"It was standing on a trap door," I nodded, grasping for anything else to concentrate on. "I can't imagine what it could be guarding, though. Must be something either really powerful or really dangerous. Why would it be here, though?"

"Bloody hell. I know what it is. Come on; let's find a place a little more hidden," Harry said suddenly, leaping to his feet and offering me a hand. I accepted it and he pulled me up. "Thanks for that back there, Draco," he said, still gripping my forearm in the same way that I gripped his. I nodded firmly, and I felt the lightness of forgiveness and gratitude from another fill me up as we snuck into the Charms classroom.

"Out with it," Pansy said at once as we all sat down on chairs and desks in the middle of the room.

"Okay, the first day I met Draco, the grounds keeper of Hogwarts, Hagrid, was the one who'd taken me to Diagon Alley earlier. He told me that Gringotts Bank was the second safest place in the world, and that Hogwarts was the first. When he took me to get my money, he took something out of a huge vault. It was a little package no bigger than my fist, and it was the only thing in that _whole vault_. That's why I was alone; he told me he had to deliver it to Dumbledore. That's _got _to be what the dog's guarding!" Harry explained quickly.

We all gaped at him. Pansy was the first to recover.

"So what do you think it is?" she asked eagerly. God, that girl was a curious thing.

"Haven't the slightest," Harry sighed, shaking his head. "Let's just get back to our dormitories without getting caught, and we can try talking at breakfast tomorrow, okay?" We agreed, and made our way to our beds. I was exhausted, and the last conscious thought in my head was that maybe we could be friends, even if those two _were _in Gryffindor.

(I don't like how close my plot is to the actual book. I don't know. Tell me what you think please? Reviews for Aryana?)


	8. Happy Halloween

**(This Chapter is from the Point of View of Harry Potter)**

The next morning, Hermione and I hurriedly ate our food so that we could meet with Draco and Pansy before class. But then the owl post arrived, and a long, slender package was dropped on the table. There was a letter attached to the parcel, and I opened it first, which was lucky, because it said:

_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._

_It contains a Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you this afternoon at three o'clock on the Quidditch field for your first training session._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Draco just gaped when I showed him.

"A reward for rule breaking," Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"You're going to let us have a go on it, right, Harry?" Pansy asked gleefully, running her hand over the polished wooden surface of the handle.

"Of course," I grinned. "I'm Seeker," I added them. Draco made a kind of spluttering noise.

"This is so unfair," he moaned, raking his hands back over his head, mussing up is meticulously combed platinum blonde hair.

"It's because McGonagall saw you catch Neville's Remembrall, isn't it?" Pansy asked suddenly. I nodded and she fell into hysterical giggles. Draco laughed alone with her, smoothing his hair back into place.

"Well then, you're welcome," he chuckled lightly. "But I'm guessing there have been no epiphanies concerning what that dog is guarding, have there?" he asked then. We all shook our heads and shrugged. "Then let's get to class."

The next weeks passed in a steady stream of Quidditch practice and homework. The curiosity of the trap door went unresolved, but we had enough on our plates with the increasingly interesting and difficult lessons. So it was rather a shock to me when I realized that I'd been at Hogwarts for nearly two months. The place already felt much more like home than Privet Drive ever had.

The whole castle smelled of baking pumpkin when I woke up on Halloween morning. This should have been a premonition of a very good day, but it was just the opposite. It started in Charms class, when Hermione and I got split up. I was with Seamus, which wasn't that bad. But Hermione was with Ron, and the two of them didn't exactly get along.

She spent the majority of the time trying to correct him, which he didn't take very well. "I don't know why you're friends with that Granger! I've never met anyone worse than her! She's terrible!" he exploded at me as we left the room.

"Don't you talk about her that way!" I snapped back at him without missing a beat.

"She's a menace!" he exclaimed, even though he was surprised by my reaction.

"You're just put out because you can't even levitate a feather and _she _could levitate _you_!" I fired back, glaring at him.

"Yeah, well it's no wonder that a freak like you is her only friend!" he shouted, and then he turned and disappeared into the crowd. I was fuming, even past the piece of me that was dangerously close to breaking open at the direct reminder of the years I'd spent being nothing but a freak in the Durselys' perfectly normal little world. Then I turned around to see Hermione standing just behind me, her eyes full of tears.

"I was only trying to help him. He was doing it wrong," she said tremulously, biting her lip.

"Hermione, you can't take him seriously. He's just-"

"He's right!" she interrupted, taking off into the crowd. I blinked in shock for an instant, making myself understand that she meant that he was right about her and not about me, and ran after her, but she was small and easy to lose even when we were walking together. I muttered an expletive and headed for the Great Hall for dinner, since it had been the last class of the day. As I walked, I carefully pasted my happiness from earlier back into place.

"Hey, what's up with Hermione?" Draco asked me outside of the Great Hall, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Did you see her?"

"Yeah. Pansy is with her now. She was crying," Draco said.

I sighed and ran a hand back through my hair in an agitated gesture that betrayed only my worry for Hermione and not my general frayed state. "Just Ron being a prat. She got her feelings hurt."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, an expressing that I was fairly sure had little to do with the girls, but he just shrugged. "Well, if anyone can fix it, Pansy can," he nodded. "We might as well go ahead and eat; I'm sure they'll show up later."

So we did. When the doors opened, I looked up hopefully, but it wasn't Hermione. It was Professor Quirrell. He ran up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, stopping in front of Dumbledore. "Troll-in the dungeons. Thought you ought to know." Then the poor man fell to the floor in a dead faint. The silence that had fallen was broken by a scream, and the panicked uproar began. It took several purple firecrackers from the end of Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to their dormitories immediately!"

The Gryffindor Prefect, Percy Weasely, was in his element. "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear a troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a Prefect!"

But I wasn't paying him any attention. I broke away from my group and shoved my way through the crowd to the other end of the Great Hall, where I managed to find Draco. "Pansy and Hermione!" I gasped, and he nodded. The crowd was really going crazy, and it was almost impossible to get through; we didn't make any friends.

"They're on the fourth floor," Draco said, and we shot up a stairwell. On the third floor, we froze in place and pressed ourselves to the wall as Professor Snape ran past us. It was dumb luck that he was obviously very distracted, or we would have been caught.

"Why isn't he in the dungeons with the other teachers?" I wondered slightly breathlessly as he disappeared around a corner and we headed up the next stairwell, to the fourth floor.

"No idea," Draco huffed as we ran. "What's that smell?" he asked. I froze and sniffed, and a cold feeling settled in my stomach like it always did when something bad was about to happen. The scent was a mixture of sweaty socks and that type of public restroom that no one ever seems to clean. Then we heard it; a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of giant feet. Squinting into the darkness, I saw a great hulking shape making its way down the corridor towards us. Draco and I stood stock still as the form came into a patch of moonlight, and I stifled a gasp.

The troll was not in the dungeons; that much was clear by the horrific sight in front of us. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was horrible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waddled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"They key's in the lock," I muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Let's go," he agreed. We edged silently forward, mouths dry, praying that the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Draco slammed the door closed and I grabbed the key and locked it.

We grinned at each other, flush with our victory, and then my gaze strayed to the sign hung on the door. _Lady's_. It was the girl's restroom. Our eyes met again, now wide with horror, as a scream sounded from the other side of the door. Draco went ghostly pale.

"The girls!" we cried in unison, unlocking and throwing the door open without pausing to think. Hermione and Pansy were flattened against the far wall, eyes wide and terrified, while the troll advanced on them, knocking sinks off the wall with its club as it went.

"Confuse it!" Draco said desperately to me, seizing a tap and hurling it at the wall. It made a satisfactory crash, and the troll lumbered around to see the source of the noise. It's mean little eyes found Draco. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

I dashed sideways, picked up a piece of pipe, and threw it at the troll. When that turned out to be completely ineffectual, I shouted, "Oy! Pea-brain!" That got its attention, and gave Draco the chance to run around behind it and grab Pansy's hand.

"Come on! Run!" he yelled at them, but Hermione couldn't move away from the wall, her mouth wide open with terror, and Pansy wouldn't let go of her, screaming back at Draco to stop barking at Hermione. The shouting and echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started towards me, since I was closest. I had no way to escape at this point, so I pointed my wand at it. Without a word, red sparks shot out of the end and flew into its face. The troll howled with rage and careened around and away from me, running into the wall that the girls were pressed against and sending debris raining down on them.

Hermione, who was being dragged toward the door by Pansy and Draco, let out a scream louder than the Troll's roar. I shouted frantically, throwing things at it and shooting sparks, and it stumbled towards me with blind fury. Draco then did something unbelievable brave, stupid, and un-Slytherin: he took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll probably couldn't feel Draco hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you shove a long piece of wood up its nose, and Draco's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone strait up one of he troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Draco hanging on for dear life; I knew that any second the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club. Pansy was screaming and Hermione seemed to have fainted, but the troll apparently blamed me for the sudden pain in its face because it raised its club high over its head in preparation for a blow that would surely kill me.

I braced myself for the blow, since there was nowhere to run, and heard Pansy shout, "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" The troll swung its arm down toward me, but the club remained suspended in the air above it. The club rose high, high in the air, turned over - and dropped, with a sickening crack onto the head of its owner. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, sending Draco tumbling across the floor.

That was when Professor McGonagall slammed through the door, followed closely by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. But I wasn't paying them any attention.

"Draco!" I exclaimed, scrambling over the troll's unconscious body to that of my friend. I rolled him onto his back. "Draco!" I said again, louder, shaking his shoulder. He blinked groggily and I helped him to sit up, laughing with relief. "You alright?"

"That was stupid," he muttered as he nodded, rubbing his head and standing up with me.

"I'll say," Professor McGonagall snapped, her voice cold and furious. I looked back over at the teachers now. Quirrell was sitting down on a toilet, looking faint, and Snape was bent over the troll. I had never seen McGonagall so angry. Her lips were white. "What on earth were you thinking of?" she demanded furiously. "You're lucky you weren't killed! Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave me a swift, piercing look. I looked at the floor.

"Please, Professor - they were looking for us," Pansy's voice came from the shadows as she and Hermione stepped out into the semi-light.

"Miss Parkinson! Miss Granger!" McGonagall exclaimed in surprise.

"I got my feelings hurt earlier today," Hermione said weakly, still staring at the troll. "And was here…"

"Weeping," Pansy continued for her, when she trailed off. "And I was trying to comfort her. We didn't know about the troll."

"And I knew that they were here," Draco continued.

"So we came to fetch them, since we thought the troll was down in the dungeons," I added.

"But…it was here," Pansy said shakily.

"So you see, it's really all my fault. They were all very brave. Harry shot sparks in its face, Draco stuck his wand up its nose, and Pansy knocked it out with its own club," Hermione said. This seemed to remind Draco of his wand's location, and he bent and pulled it out, making a sound of disgust when he found it covered in a substance resembling gray glue. He wiped it off on the troll's trousers and stood back up.

"They didn't have any time to go for teachers. It would have killed us if they hadn't been here," Pansy finished.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Professor McGonagall sighed. "I don't know what to be more surprised by-the fact that you're all alive and intact, or the friendship that the four of you seem to have." We looked around at each other, and I felt a light smile touch my face. Slytherins and Gryffindors…even the teachers were surprised that we could get along. "I believe that these two belong to you, Professor Snape," she said.

"Indeed," he drawled, looking at the two. "And I believe that they'll get fifteen points each, for skill and luck."

"Well. Fifteen points for you as well, Mr. Potter. Now all of you get to your common rooms; students are finishing the feast in their houses," McGonagall conceded. We were all more than happy to obey, and quickly left the room. Draco and Hermione were both a bit wobbly, so Pansy and I ended up supporting them.

"We should have gotten more points," Draco grumbled as he moved along with his arm slung around my shoulders to keep balanced.

"You got thirty; we got fifteen," I reminded him.

"Yes, but that's because Hermione didn't do anything," Draco replied.

"Thank you for coming for us," Hermione murmured then.

"You're welcome," Draco replied.

"That's what friends are for," I agreed.

"It wasn't very Slytherin of you to act so recklessly," Hermione told Draco, the first hints of a smile on her face. He frowned at her. "It's a complement," she told him.

Pansy laughed and shook her head. I couldn't stop grinning. God, I loved my friends.

**(AN: Okay, that's the end of Chapter Eight. But the good news is, my internet has been down and I've been writing! So I am almost completely finished with this story! It makes me so happy! :) I'm not so good at **_**finishing **_**stories, but this time will be different! I promise!)**

**(PS: Review!)**


	9. The Boy Who

**(This Chapter is from the Point of View of Draco Malfoy.)**

With November came Quidditch Season and very cold weather. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks, bundled up in a an enormous moleskin overcoat. He was a bit obtuse, but I liked him just fine. Harry, Hermione, Pansy, and I would go and have tea with him on any day we had off. I didn't like him well enough to try to eat any of his cooking after the first time, but there were very few people that I _did _like well enough to purposely glue my mouth closed for.

Harry was stressed over the upcoming Quidditch match, since it would be his first. I had no idea who I was supposed to cheer for, since the game was Gryffindor versus Slytherin. I could hardly get away with cheering for my House's adversary (Malfoys did not publicly humiliate themselves), but then how was I supposed to cheer _against _my best friend? Pansy would probably cheer for him; that girl had no regard for the dividing lines of different Houses. That was why she had all of three friends, not that she minded.

The Gryffindor captain had been trying to keep Harry's spot on the team a secret, so of course, the whole school knew about it. Harry hated to be told he'd be brilliant almost as much as he hated people telling him that they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

The four of us spent a lot of nights sitting in an empty classroom, doing homework together. Harry needed a lot of help, since he had to spend so much time practicing. And when he had free time, he was constantly reading _Quidditch Through The Ages_.

The day before Harry's first Quidditch match, the four of us were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and Hermione had conjured us up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. We were standing with our backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. I noticed at once that he was limping. We moved in front of the flame, just in case it was against the rules, but something about our guilty faces caught his eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he looked as if he wished to tell Harry off anyway. His obvious dislike for Harry Potter was extremely strange, but the fact that I was usually around him made it difficult for him to take points from Harry without doing the same to me or Pansy without being horrible in a completely over-the-top fashion. This time he found a loophole.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?" he asked.

It was _Quidditch Through The Ages_. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," he said crossly. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made up that rule," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away.

"I wonder what's wrong with his leg," Pansy said curiously.

"Dunno, but I hope its really hurting him," Harry said bitterly.

We were all sitting in the empty Transfiguration classroom later that day, Hermione checking Harry's homework and Pansy checking mine, when Harry decided he wanted his book back.

"I would try to teachers' lounge. No way he'd refuse in front of other teachers," I suggested. He nodded and disappeared. Maybe fifteen minutes later, he came back winded and flushed, green eyes wide with excitement.

"You won't believe what I've just seen!" he gasped. "When I knocked, no one answered, so I decided to try and see if he might have left it there. And Snape was in there, and Filch was bandaging his leg. He was limping because its _mangled_. An then he says _'Blasted thing. How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?_' It was _him_!" he said all in one breath, then drew in a great gasp and continued. "_Snape _was the one that let the troll in on Halloween! We even saw him headed for the third floor that night! He let the troll in to create a distraction, so that he could steal what that dog is guarding, but he couldn't get past it!" he exclaimed in an excited whisper.

"No…he wouldn't," Pansy said, blinking in disbelief. "I know he's not very nice to you guys, but he wouldn't try to steal something that Dumbledore is keeping safe." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"I'm with Harry; that's definitely where he was going on Halloween," I said, shaking my head. I was, by nature, a suspicious creature. "But I want to know what that dog is guarding! What is Snape after?" I wondered.

None of us had any idea, and I went to bed puzzled and intrigued. What could be so powerful that Snape would try to steal it from someone as powerful as Dumbledore. It was have to be great enough that he could match Dumbledore in power once he had it…but then that wouldn't take the greatest of boosts. Maybe it was a weapon…or something that could raise the dead…or maybe it was a book with the secret to immortality between its bindings. Immortality…I could have eternity with my friends, and never be alone in death…if what was under that trap door gave immortality, maybe _I_ could take it…But Malfoys did not pine.

The next morning dawned bright and cold. Professor McGonagall, who seemed to enjoy the oddity of two Gryffindors being best friends with two Slytherins, had lent us her classroom to eat breakfast together the morning of Harry's first Quidditch game.

"We'll be cheering for you, Harry, right along with Hermione," Pansy promised him as Hermione tried to coax Harry into eating some breakfast. He was looking pale and scared, and not the least bit interesting in the toast and sausages and eggs that the rest of us were eating.

"I don't want any," he said for the fourth time.

"You need your strength. Come on, just a bit of toast," Hermione wheedled. He gave a put-upon sigh and grabbed the toast from her hand, taking a large bite out of it and forcing it down with an equally large swallow of orange juice. "There, isn't that better?" she asked smugly.

"I think I'm going to puke."

He didn't, thankfully.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students, including myself, had binoculars. The seats might be high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes. Pansy and I were wearing Gryffindor-colored cloaks with the hoods up, so that we could sit in their section with Hermione without trouble from them or our fellow Slytherins.

As a surprise for Harry, we had painted a large banner that said _Potter for President_, and Pansy, who was apparently good at drawing, had drawn a large Gryffindor lion under it. Hermione and I had worked together on a tricky little charm that made the paint flash different colors.

When they came out of the locker room, I focused my binoculars on Harry. He glanced up at banner we'd made and a bit of color rose into his pale face. He looked as if he felt a bit braver now. The two teams of seven faced each other on the field, with Madam Hooch in the center. She put her whistle to her lips and its shrill cry rang through the stadium as she tossed up the Quaffle and fifteen brooms rose high into the air. They were off.

The game was terribly exciting, but perfectly normal in the beginning. Gryffindor scored, and maintained their lead. Hagrid arrived not long after that to sit with us. Then the Snitch was sighted, and Harry was neck-and-neck with Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker. I saw what was happening before it did as Flint, the Slytherin Captain, sped in a strait line for Harry.

"He's going to…!" I started to say, but then, WHAM! And Flint sent Harry spinning wildly through the air and a deafening roar of rage resounded from the Gryffindors around me. I booed along with them, and Pansy hissed with fury along with Hermione. "He could have killed him!" I cried angrily in Hagrid's direction, since the girls were busy heckling between themselves.

"He coulda knocked Harry outta the air," Hagrid nodded.

The announcer, Lee Jordan, was finding it very hard not to take sides and kept being chastised by Professor McGonagall. Concerned, I was watching Harry through my binoculars. And then it happened. In midair, Harry's broom gave a sudden lurch that nearly sent its passenger toppling off. I could see the shocked and fearful expression on Harry's face as he clung to the broom, and it lurched again. Harry was looking around, tugging at the handle of the broom as if trying and failing to get it to obey his command to move.

"Something's wrong with Harry's broom," I breathed. Harry's broom was taking an odd zigzagging pattern ever higher into the air. "Hagrid!" I said, loudly this time. "Hagrid, something wrong with Harry's broom! He's lost control of it!" I shook the giant man's sleeve as I said it, pointing skyward.

Hagrid put his binoculars to his face and looked up. "He can't have…" he said slowly. I gave a sharp and involuntary sound of horror as Harry's broom started to roll over and over, with him just barely holding on. My heart stilled in my chest for a few counts and the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk, and Harry had swung off of it. My best friend was now dangling from a possessed piece of wood hundreds of feet above the ground, hanging on by one hand.

"Only Dark Magic could have done that to a Nimbus Two Thousand, no student," Hermione said calculatedly as she snatched my binoculars out of my hands. I tore my eyes away from Harry to see Pansy sobbing into Hagrid's coat and Hermione pointing my binoculars at the teacher's seats. "I knew it! Look at Snape!"

I took my binoculars back and pointed them at my favorite teacher. His eyes were fixed intensely on Harry, his lips moving ceaselessly… "He's jinxing the broom," I choked out. And as soon as I realized this, I went strait through the roof of terrified into a state of perfect calm. Malfoys did not panic. "Leave it to me," I said, and shoved my way through the standing crowd.

High above, the Weasely twins were trying to pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but every time they got close, he would rise higher. They dropped lower and circled underneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

I pelted through the crowd, once again not making any friends in the process. When I reached the teacher's seats, I ran along the row behind Snape, not even pausing when I knocked Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. When I was directly behind Snape, I crouched down and pointed my wand at the hem of his robes. "_Flammacreare_," I hissed, and instantly bright blue flames leapt into life there. It took maybe thirty seconds for Snape to realize he was on fire. A sharp yelp of pain was all I needed to tell me that I had succeeded. I scooped the fire away and took off into the crowd, hoping he wouldn't know what had happened.

When I got back to my seat, Harry was back on his broom and speeding toward the ground at a shocking rate. God, what had I done?

Then he clapped a hand to his mouth as if he would be sick, slowed down, and tumbled gently onto the grass on all fours. He coughed, and something gold fell out into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion. We were later filled in about the calamity that ensued after that, but we weren't present for it. By the time that Lee Jordan stopped shouting Gryffindor's victory over the loudspeakers, and Finch stopped wailing about Harry's unconventional catch, the four of us were sitting inside Hagrid's warm little hut, drinking tea.

"That was brilliant, Harry! I don't think anyone has ever caught a Snitch with their face before," Pansy chirped enthusiastically. I laughed.

"Great. Instead of The Boy Who Lived, you can be The Boy Who Ate The Snitch," I chuckled.

Harry grinned. "I bet your five galleons you can't get that to catch on with the Slytherins," he challenged.

"You're on," I replied. "Or how about The Boy Who Almost Died. That might stick longer. I mean, how many people in the world have _almost died_? It's so much less interesting," I mused.

"No. Unless I hear at least five Slytherins call me The Boy Who Ate The Snitch, it's no deal," Harry said decidedly. "And Pansy doesn't count."

"Aw! Why don't I count?" Pansy pouted.

"Because you're in on the joke. You'll help me out," Draco told her authoritatively.

"Will you guys stop being silly and think about what we're going to do?" Hermione demanded, even though she was trying not to smile. I sighed and wondered how hopeless we would be if Hermione didn't keep us somewhat anchored. But then, we'd all be in Slytherin if not for her…she'd ruined everything…

No! We were all friends; that didn't matter anymore. But that didn't keep a troubling little vice from whispering in my ear, _Malfoys do not forgive_. I shoved these thoughts viciously away and smothered the voice as best I could.

"I would think at least _you'd _be serious about this, Draco. You nearly fell out of the stands when Harry was hanging up there," Hermione said seriously. A blush prickled in my cheeks, and I knew it was visible on my pale face.

"It was definitely Snape, then?" Pansy asked.

"Yes. As soon as he was distracted, Harry could fly again," I nodded.

"What's this about Professor Snape?" Hagrid asked.

I frowned, completely ready to lie to him, but Hermione beat me to the punch. "He was the one who cursed Harry's broom today," she said. Stupid Gryffindor girl. "We saw him."

"Snape? Now why would he want to do a thing like that?" Hagrid demanded.

Hermione pursed her lips uncertainly and glanced around, as if asking permission. "Well you might as well tell him," I sighed.

But it was Harry who answered. "I found out something about him. He tried to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to get at whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot. "How do you lot know about Fluffy?"

"_Fluffy?" _we repeated in incredulous unison.

"Yeah-he's mine-I bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. I lent 'im to Dumbledore to guard the-" Hagrid caught himself at the last second in the most frustrating way possible.

"Yes?" Harry prodded hopefully.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," Hagrid said gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape is trying to _steal _it!" Pansy protested. Apparently, she didn't hold our teacher in quite the same esteem that she had before the incident today.

"Rubbish," Hagrid said. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher. He'd do nothin' of the sort."

"Then why did he just try to kill Harry?" I demanded angrily.

"Listen, Hagrid, I know a jinx when I see one. I've read all about one. You have to keep eye contact and Snape wasn't blinking at all!" Hermione said fervently.

"And I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid said hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now listen to me, all four of yeh-yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's _dangerous_! You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guarding, that's between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel!"

"Aha! So there's someone named Nicholas Flamel involved!" Harry exclaimed. Hagrid looked furious with himself and refused to speak to us at all after that.

**(AN: Thanks for the reviews so far! They make me happy : ) I'm glad my story is being read and enjoyed. Yes, I know it's following the original storyline a bit much, but I want it to be that way : ) I hope you like it!)**

**(PS: Review!)(please?)**


	10. This Side of the Looking Glass

**(This Chapter is From the Point of View of Hermione Granger)**

Christmas was drawing nearer, bringing with it several feet of snow and a frozen lake, and I was slowly losing my mind. I knew I'd read the name Nicholas Flamel _somewhere_, but I just couldn't _remember_! It was driving me to distraction!

Ever since Hagrid had let slip about Nicholas Flamel having a part in whatever it was that Snape was trying to steal, the four of us had spent every spare second we were handed in the library, searching for him. We couldn't find so much as a footnote referring to a Nicholas Flamel. It was infinitely frustrating. So much so that I'd decided that I just couldn't go home for the upcoming holiday, but then neither were my friends, so I didn't mind. My parents were less than pleased, but I didn't mind that either.

Hagrid would disclose nothing more than he already had, no matter how much we pestered him, so we gave up on him for the time being.

Christmas snuck up on me with surprising deftness, but not so much so that I had no time to buy presents. I didn't spend much time wondering if they'd gotten me anything; I wasn't even sure if you were supposed to give gifts to you friends, since I'd only just come to have some.

Christmas morning was a bit of a shock to me, since I sat up and saw a small pile of presents sitting at the end of my bed that couldn't have been from my parents, being too clumsily wrapped in two cases and too painstakingly in the third. The other girls (Parvati and Lavender had both stayed over break) were happily unwrapping their presents and talking to each other, but they never had much to say to me, and I never had much to say to them, either.

I decided to unwrap the one I was sure was from my parents first. It was large and wrapped in brown paper tied with white string, perfectly simple and practical. They'd sent me a new coat, once again full of practicality. I vaguely wondered if I would be getting socks as well as I ripped open the nearest package and a box of sugar quills fell away from book titled _Born and Bred: The Complete Memoirs of Glenna Roth_. I frowned, wondering if I knew the name. I flipped it open to the first page and read, trying to figure out if I knew who this was or not.

_My name is Glenna Roth, though I can't imagine how you could have managed to buy my book without knowing at least that much. At the moment, I am pretty close to being ninety years of age, though you don't have to go telling everyone that. Since this is the introduction, I suppose I should tell you what's so special about me that I would have a book, since you may in fact be reading this long after I held the position of Minister or Magic. Well, I've said it just now: I held the post of Minister of Magic for forty years. I'm quite proud of myself, thanks. Becoming the Minister of Magic when you are born of Muggle parents is nothing to sneeze at, either. I was the first to do it, but since I've slung the door wide open I don't think I'll be the last. In fact…_

I grinned and closed the book, already knowing who'd bought it for me as I picked up the card that had fallen free. I already liked Glenna Roth, and sat the book down beside me for future reading. I picked up Draco's gift next, which was wrapped in shiny silver paper. I untied the ribbon and folded the paper away, finding a box of Wizard's Chess playing set. And another book. _Well, at least they all know what I like_, I thought with a wide smile. The book was _Cauldron Bubble: Advanced Potions and Brews_. I almost laughed aloud at this. How like Draco to give me a book so that he could borrow it later.

The last package was neatly wrapped, but the paper crinkled in my hands, as if the item it held wasn't solid. _Pansy_, I thought as I untied the ribbon and the bright paper fell open to reveal a shimmering golden-colored scarf that flowed like liquid in my hands. I gasped and buried my fingers in it, amazed at its softness as I lifted it and wrapped it around my shoulders.

"Wow. That's pretty, Hermione," Parvati Patil said admiringly from the bed beside mine.

"Oh. Well, thank you," I said, smiling at her. "I like your new hat," I told her politely, since she'd pulled on a ruby and gold banded skullcap. She thanked me and went back to her gifts. A tiny book had fallen out of the scarf when I'd wrapped it around myself, and I picked it up in surprise. It was about a fourth of an inch thick and three inches wide both up and down, bound in red leather with black cursive on the cover: _Hermione_.

I flipped it open to find that there were no pages in the book, just a piece of white paper on the inside of each cover. On the left piece, in Pansy's handwriting, it said, _Write something there, _with an arrow pointing to the left page. There was a small ink pen cradled in the spine of the book, so I picked it up and wrote _Merry Christmas _where she had indicated, and gasped in delight when the words _Merry Christmas, Hermione! _appeared in the place of Pansy's last note, quickly followed by, _Do you like your scarf?_

_Yes! Very much! It's beautiful! _I scribbled back, since my earlier note had faded to a blank page again.

_I'm so glad you like it! And thank you so much for the bracelets! I'll never take them off! _Pansy replied quickly.

_This is amazing. Do you have a book just like the one you gave me, then? _I asked.

_Yes. Draco and I went down to Hogsmeade to shop. Draco bought two sets-for me and you, and him and Harry. Aren't they great?_

_It's brilliant! _I replied. _You want to go to dinner early? I'll bet the Hall is wonderful._

_See you there!_

I closed the book and swung my legs out of bed, but the surprises for the day were not over yet. As soon as I got down to the Great Hall, Harry dragged me, Pansy, and Draco into an empty classroom, practically bursting with excitement.

"Look what I've got!" Harry exclaimed, pulling a shining silvery cloak out from under his robes. I didn't see anything special about it, but Draco gasped in surprise.

"That's an invisibility cloak!" he nearly choked. "Put it on, then!" he ordered abruptly. Harry complied, draping it around his shoulders. I heard Pansy's cry of surprise match mine when Harry disappeared from the neck down, leaving only his disembodied head floating before us. "Wicked," Draco breathed.

"And this note was with it," Harry said, holding out a small square of stiff paper in the general direction of Draco. Looking over the shoulder that Pansy was not glued to, I could see a short note written in narrow, loopy writing that I had never seen before.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died._

_It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

There was no signature. We looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Oh God, there will be no end to the rule-breaking now, will there?" I said resignedly, and as soon as it was out of my mind, I knew exactly what the cloak could be used for. "You can get into the restricted section of the library with that!" I exclaimed, suddenly so excited I couldn't stand it. "Flamel. I bet he's there somewhere!"

"You're a bloody hypocrite, you know that?" Pansy laughed, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "And the most bookish rule-breaker I've ever met," she added, laughing, kissing me on the cheek, and tugging the scarf she'd given my over my bushy hair.

The boys were paying us no attention, absorbed in discussing more interesting things to do with the cloak. But then they always seemed to be doing that.

"I'm certain we could find Flamel in the restricted section, Pansy!" I said, undeterred.

"Yes, I know you are, love," she said, linking her arm through mine. I noticed at once that she was wearing the bracelets that I'd bought her, one on each wrist. They were thick and silver, set with faux emeralds, since I didn't have the money for real ones. I wished I had been able to get her real emeralds. Pansy was the truest friend I'd ever had, and I loved her so much more than faux emeralds could express. I wondered if she realized how much she meant to me, as we marched down the chilly corridor arm-in-arm, with the boys trailing behind us.

The hall was amazingly decorated, with a dozen massive Christmas trees and too many thousands of candles to count. We sat together on the end of the Gryffindor table, since the hall was still mostly empty. When Professor McGonagall stopped in front of us with a contemplative look on her face, Draco and Pansy stood up awkwardly, looking as if they weren't sure if they were about to get in trouble for sitting on the wrong table.

"I don't think anyone will mind if four friends were to sit together to eat their Christmas dinners," she said with an unexpected smile.

"Th-thank you, Professor," Pansy said, flushed and grinning as she sat back down and Professor McGonagall walked away from us.

I've never in all my life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones that my family usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. I pulled a wizard cracker with Pansy and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed us all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a flowered bonnet and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Professor Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a rear admiral's hat, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Harry nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. We watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to all of our amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When we finally left the table, we were all laden down with stacks of things out of the crackers, in my case including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a strange bottle labeled Hair So Fine, and some nail polish that changed color according to the mood of the wearer. The white mice had disappeared and I had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

The four of us spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds, Pansy and I eventually losing to Harry and Draco. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, we returned to the Transfiguration classroom, where Hermione conjured us a wonderfully warm blue fire that hovered above us. I broke in my new chess set by losing spectacularly to Pansy, who'd gotten her own set from the wizard crackers. She went on to defeat a bewildered Draco several times, who eventually gave up and named her a chess prodigy and a cheater.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, we all felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed, so Harry and I parted way with our Slytherin friends and headed for Gryffindor tower.

"Harry…I think you and I should take your cloak for a test run tonight," I mused, no longer so close to sleeping.

He glanced back over his shoulder, and I wasn't sure if he was searching for Draco and Pansy or checking to make sure we weren't overheard. "Where do you want to go?" he asked curiously.

"I want going to look for Flamel in the restricted section of the library. I don't think all four of us would fit under it, or I would have asked them as well," I said, nodding back over my shoulder in the direction that our friends had disappeared.

"Alright then. Meet me in the common room once the other girls have fallen asleep; I have my dormitory to myself, so I'll wait for you," he told me as we reached the portrait hole. I gave the Fat Lady the password and we stepped through into the common room, and I went up to bed to lie awake until Parvati and Lavender fell asleep.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp so that we could see our way along the rows of books. We walked close to each other, hidden under the invisibility cloak with the lamp floating creepily beside us. The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. We shrugged off the invisibility cloak and I squinted at the titles of the rows of books.

"Be careful," I whispered. "There's no telling what's in here."

The titles really didn't tell me much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages I couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Maybe I was imagining it, maybe not, but I thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

"We have to start somewhere," Harry whispered. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. A sudden anxiety filled my stomach as I watched him pull it out with difficulty, as if it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence — the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over the lamp, which went out at once.

"Harry!" I hissed hysterically, jerking the book out of his hands and cramming it back onto the shelf. I threw the cloak over us, grabbed his hand, and ran.

We passed Filch in the doorway; his pale, wild eyes looked straight through us, and we slipped under his outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in my ears. Only our small size had saved us, since the cloak had managed to cover us both throughout our mad dash.

We came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor at the sound of voices beyond it. I had been so busy getting away from the library, I hadn't paid attention to where we were going. Perhaps because it was dark, I didn't recognize where we were at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, I knew, but we must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."

I felt the blood drain out of my face. Wherever we were, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to my utter horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

We stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see us, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into us — the cloak didn't stop us from being solid.

Harry prodded my arm and pointed. A door stood ajar to our left. It was our only hope. Harry squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to my relief I managed follow him into the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and we leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before I noticed anything about the room we had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket – but propped against the wall facing us was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ "Look at this," Harry whispered, shrugging the cloak off again.

"Harry, come on. We should go back. This was a bad idea," I whispered, hugging it around my trembling body. I wasn't quite ready to relax yet, and was even less so when Harry stepped in front of the mirror and gave a gasp of terror, wheeling around. All the color had gone out of his face as he looked back at the mirror, then behind him, then at me. His eyes were far away, as if he was barely aware of me even as his strange green eyes stared through me. Then he turned back to the mirror, and the expression on his face made my heart clench in my chest.

I'd never seen anyone look so completely hungry and heartbroken and happy at the same time. He pressed his hands to the glass and leaned forward, as if he hoped to fall through to the other side of the mirror. I didn't know what to do.

"Harry," I whispered after a moment. He jumped slightly and then turned to face me with a large smile on his face and a deep sadness in his eyes.

"Hermione, come look at this," he said quietly. "You can see your whole family in this mirror. It's brilliant." I blinked in surprise; _that _was what had brought such a deep longing into his eyes? But then I realized that it would, of course, be something he wanted desperately. He'd never had a family.

He stepped back away from the mirror and held out his hand in a beckoning gesture. I meant only to humor him, but when I stepped in front of the mirror, all thoughts of Harry left my head.

"Do you see them? Your family?" he asked pleasantly.

"No," I breathed. On the other side of the mirror I saw myself and Pansy, just as we were now, arm-in-arm. And then we were older and taller, thirteen, fifteen, then twenty. Teenagers and then women, bright and then elegant. Then we were thirty, forty, fifty. Silver-haired and wise and beautiful. Then we were ageless. We were light. We were rain. We were music. We were eternity.

Tears spilled from my eyes, because I knew what this mirror was. Erised…Desire. It showed us the deepest desire of our hearts, and mine was to never be without Pansy, my truest friend and the sister of my soul. Harry saw a family he'd never known.

"Let's get away from here, Harry," I whispered, wiping my face on the back of my sleeve. He followed me silently out of the room, and we ducked under the cloak again.

"What did you see, Hermione?" he asked me when we were back inside the Gryffindor common room, warming ourselves by the fire.

"Eternity," I sighed, but I found that I just couldn't explain what I'd seen; my throat closed and wouldn't allow it. So I went clinical. "It shows us our heart's desire. That's what it said across the top, you know. I've read about it." My voice sounded kind of dead. I couldn't seem to connect my mind and my heart; they were drifting separately from each other, one begging and keening to be back in front of the mirror, the other knowing that it was frivolous. "_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafre oyt on wohsi_…it isn't Latin or Greek…it's mirrored. _I show not your face, but your heart's desire_."

"Oh," Harry said, staring into the fire in just the way I was.

"Your family?" I asked. He nodded.

"I'll have one someday. A big family," he said with such conviction that I had no doubt in my mind that he would.

"Me too. I don't ever want to be lonely," I agreed.

"Will you marry me, Hermione?" he asked then. I blinked at him, and saw clearly that he was perfectly sincere.

"Marry you?" I repeated, not sure how to react to this.

"When we're adults, I can marry you and Draco and marry Pansy, and the four of us will be together forever," he said seriously.

"Okay," I heard myself say, just as seriously. "Let's not court, though. Let's not tell the others. Not yet, anyway. It doesn't make any sense. When we're older, we'll date people, then try being in love. Then we'll get married."

"Alright," Harry agreed. It was so simple and dispassionate a plan that it just couldn't fail. So we went to bed, with a distant promise and no butterflies.

**(AN: poor kids :) I do love them so much. Hope you're liking it!)**

**(PS: Review!) (pretty please?)**


	11. Scaly Logic

**(This Chapter is from the point of view of Pansy Parkinson)**

It was cold in the dormitory. I'd woken to find a note in my little red message book; in Hermione's hurried handwriting it said _Meet me in the Library_. So I dragged my sleepy butt out of bed, pulling off my pajamas and then scrambling to pull on robes. God, why was it always so cold in here? Goosebumps prickled across my pale skin and I stomped my suddenly cold feet around on the rug until I'd pulled on my socks and shoes. I pulled on the bracelets from Hermione and the green and silver bobble hat that Draco had given me.

And with that, I left the other girls still sleeping in the dormitory; break had ended over a weak ago. Outside the common room, which was slightly warmer than my dorm thanks to the strange green flame in the hearth, the dungeons felt as if they were somewhere in the subzero temperatures, so I broke into a run and didn't stop until the warm air of the library broke against my flushed face.

Sitting at the table closest to the hearth was Hermione, her wild hair even worse than usual and her face drawn with lack of sleep. An automatic smile founds its way to my face when I saw that she was once again wearing the golden scarf I'd given her. "Have you been reading all night?" I asked as I sat down beside her. She looked up at me and smiled brightly.

"Maybe," she replied a bit sheepishly. "But I've found Flamel," she added.

It took me a second to process this. "That's brilliant! Who is he?" I demanded in a loud whisper.

"I just woke up this morning and remembered where I'd read his name-on the back of Dumbledore's chocolate frog card! They worked in Alchemy together," she told me happily, then dropped her voice to a whisper as she said, "He's the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, which can turn any metal into gold and produces the Elixir of Life. Riches and immortality."

"_That's _what the dog's guarding," I realized in a hushed voice, and Hermione nodded. "Flamel must have asked Dumbledore to keep it safe, since they're friends, and he had to have known that someone was after it."

"Exactly. Come on and let's tell the boys," Hermione nodded. But just as we were getting up, Hagrid's great form appeared through the door. "Oh, good morning, Hagrid," Hermione said pleasantly.

"Mornin'," he greeted us, lumbering down an aisle and plucking a couple of books off of the shelf. "You lot ain't still lookin' fer Flamel, are yeh?" he asked us, eyeing the books Hermione had been reading suspiciously.

"Oh no, we know all about him," Hermione said with a throwaway manner that opposed the fact that she'd only just discovered who it was this morning. "He's the maker of the Philosopher's-"

"_Shhh!_" Hagrid hissed, looking around to see if anyone was listening. "Don' yeh go hollerin' about it, or they'll think I told yeh."

"As a matter of fact, I have some other questions to ask you. I may be wrong, but I think there's got to be more than just Fluffy guarding the Philosopher's Stone, as impressive as Fluffy may be-" Hermione continued, as if she hadn't been interrupted.

"SHHHHH!" Hagrid hissed again, more forcefully. "Jus' come an' see me later. I'm not promising' to tell yeh anything, jus' don' go shoutin' about it here."

"Alright, see you later, Hagrid," I said cheerfully as he left the library.

"What were those books he was hiding behind his back?" I wondered aloud once he was gone. Pansy shrugged and walked down the aisle that he had, touching the space that he'd left when he'd taken several large books.

"Dragons," she whispered as I arrived beside her. I looked down the row of books and saw that what the whole section was about. "You don't think he's got one, do you?" she asked.

"I certainly hope not. They're unbelievably dangerous, not to mention illegal," I said, frowning. "I suppose we'll have to check when we go to his hut."

We plodded our way through three feet of snow to the gamekeeper's hut, Harry and Draco having the harder time of it leading the way. Hermione and I walked in their wake with less trouble. When we got to the hut, we were vaguely surprised to find all of the blinds drawn, and Hagrid called "Who is it?" before letting us in, then shut the door quickly behind us.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a cold day, the extreme heat quickly became unpleasant. Hagrid made us tea and offered us stoat sandwiches, which we refused.

"So — yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?" he asked, the question mostly directed at me.

"Yes," I said. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at us. "O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," I said in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and we could tell he was smiling.

"We only wondered who had done the guarding, really," Hermione went on, using my technique. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you." Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words, and I knew it had been just the right thing to say. Hermione was brilliant; I thought for about the millionth time that she would have done brilliantly in Slytherin. Harry and Draco beamed us.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that… let's see… he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o' the teachers did enchantments… Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall —" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"_Snape_?" we repeated in horrified unison.

"Yeah — yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

I knew Draco, Harry, and Hermione were thinking the same as I was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything — except, it seemed, how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to us. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. I noticed him glance at the fire, and looked at it, too.

"Hagrid — what's _that_?" I asked. But I already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's — er…"

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" asked Draco, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "They cost loads." Just by the way he said it, I knew he was thinking _'More than _you _could afford, anyway.' _I almost smiled just thinking that; the snob.

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" I asked anxiously.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library —_Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_— it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't. "Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_," she said. But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

So now we had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Harry sighed, as evening after evening we struggled through all the extra homework we were getting because of the approaching exams. Hermione had busied myself making study schedules for the three of us, as well as herself. She was determined to pass mine with flying colors no matter how much extra stuff was happening; I thought it was kind of adorable in her bookish way.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: _It's hatching. _Draco wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. I wouldn't hear of it. "Pansy, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" he demanded.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing—"

"Shut up!" Draco whispered.

Ron Weasely was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? I didn't like the look on the boy's face at all…but then I disliked him in general.

Draco and I argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, I agreed that we could run down to Hagrid's with our Gryffindor friends during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the two of us dropped our trowels at once and ran to meet Harry and Hermione, then hurry through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted us, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered us inside. The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it. We all drew our chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath. All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't particularly pretty; I thought it looked rather like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout. Okay, I had to admit that that was kind of cute. "Isn't he _beautiful_?" Hagrid murmured, and _I thought I wouldn't go so far as to say _that_, now_. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid. I bit my lip against a laugh; I didn't want to hurt Hagrid's feelings, even if he _had _seemed to have forgotten our presence.

"Hagrid," I said carefully, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face — he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked restlessly. He's was more worried than the rest of us about getting into trouble; he had an upstanding wizarding family to impress, and the rest of us were cruising on the standards of vaguely informed Muggle families.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains — it's a kid — he's runnin' back up ter the school." All four of us bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking that head of orange hair.

Ronald Weasely had seen the dragon.

Over the next weeks, the contemplative, superior sort of smile lurking on Weasely's face made all four of us very nervous. I urged Harry to ask him if he was going to rat on Hagrid, but Harry refused to speak to him for reasons that were beyond me. They were of the same year in the same House; weren't they friends?

So we spent most of our free time down at Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him. "Just let him go. Set him free," Harry urged hopefully.

"I can't," Hagrid replied passionately. "He's too little. He'd die."

I looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his marbles," I heard Draco muttered in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Ron could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip. "I know I can't keep him forever. But I can't just dump him. I can't."

"Hey. Hey, I think I know someone who would take him," Draco piped up suddenly. "An uncle of mine works with dragons in Transylvania. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to take such a young one off your hands. He trains them."

In the end, Hagrid broke down and told us we could send an owl to Draco's uncle to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and I sitting alone in an unused classroom, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed ten when the door swung open. Draco and Harry appeared out of nowhere as they pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. They had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" Draco said furiously, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible creature I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when we left, he was singing it a lullaby."

He was livid. I knew immediately that _he _had been ready to go to Dumbledore until Harry had talked him down. He was full of his haughty indignation, and didn't know how to go about swallowing it; but God knew he would do it for Harry. He'd walk across hot coals on his pale and uncalloused feet for Harry Potter; I would have envied the devotion that the two of them had for each other, if Hermione and I were not just as attached.

There was a tap on the window, and on the other side I could see Draco's tawny own perched on the sill. "It's Feral; he'll have your uncle's answer," I said, hurrying to let her in. The four of us bent over he note.

_Draco,_

_I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy. I am in the area, and will be able to drop by the school before returning to Transylvania at the end of this week. Trouble is, I mustn't be caught carrying an illegal dragon. You must get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday. I shall meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Yours truly,_

_Adder Malfoy_

"Is the whole Malfoy line fixated on snakes?" I asked curiously, earning myself an eye-roll from Draco. He wasn't in a good enough mood for jokes just now, but it was still fun to poke at him.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult – I think the cloak is big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the we all agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert — and Weasely.

**(AN: Please don't hate me for making Ron the bad guy! Someone has to be! : ) don't worry too much; I have a plan for him.)**

**(PS: you know what I want :) review!)**


	12. Slytherin at Heart

**(This Chapter is from the Point of View of Hermione Granger)**

There was a hitch in our plan. By the next morning, Draco's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey — would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous. Draco was so utterly horrified by the bite that he'd gone past the point of freaking out about it and into a state of indifference.

He told Madam Pomfrey that a dog bit him without even batting an eye. Harry backed this up and tried to postpone our inevitable removal from the hospital wing while Draco was treated. But she did, of course, send us away much too soon.

We rushed up to the hospital at the end of the day to find Draco in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "That Weasley told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. I'll kill him! He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me — I've told her it was a dog, but I know she doesn't believe me. Damn him!" he hissed furiously, eyes burning with the outrage he felt at being humiliated and harassed when he was accustomed to being the aggressor in this sort of situation.

"Calm down, Draco," Harry said evenly, sitting down on the side of the bed.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Draco snapped back at him. "Just _don't_. Hagrid is your bloody friend, not mine, but I'm the one sitting in the hospital wing because of his charming little pet! It should be you!" he hissed angrily. I exchanged a look with Pansy, silently wondering if one of us should step in.

"I know," Harry agreed, sighing. "Does your hand hurt too badly, Draco?"

"Damn it all, don't _do _that. Don't go all guilty and concerned when I want to be angry with you," Draco snapped. "And yes it does hurt. It feels as if it's about to fall off."

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," I said, but this didn't soothe Draco at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no — I've just remembered — Uncle Adder's letter was in that book Weasely took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

The three of us didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made us leave, saying that Draco needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told us. "We haven't got time to send Adder another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we _have _got the invisibility cloak; Ron doesn't know about that."

We found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when we went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to us.

"I can't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage — nothin' I can't handle." When we told him about Adder's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg. "Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot — jus' playin' — he's only a baby, after all." The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. We walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

I would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if I hadn't been so worried about what we had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and we were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because we'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of our way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely." From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to me as though the teddy was having his head torn off. "Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and I covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it ourselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How the two of us managed to get the crate back up to the castle, I will never know. Midnight ticked nearer as we heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another – even one of my shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" I panted as we reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower. Then a sudden movement ahead of us made us almost drop the crate. Forgetting that we were already invisible, we shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Ronald by the ear. "Detention!" she shouted. "And fifty points from Gryffindor! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how _dare _you-"

"You don't understand, Professor. Draco Malfoy's coming — he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Draco Malfoy is in the hospital wing! Come on!" she said furiously, dragging him away by his ear.

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until we'd stepped out into the cold night air did we throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. I did a sort of celebratory jig. "Weasely's got detention! I could sing!"

"He lost us fifty points, the git," Harry muttered, but still smiled. Chuckling about Ron, we waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Adder and his friends were a strange lot, with the same sort of cold elegance that Draco sank into at times. They showed Harry and me the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry and I shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going… going… _gone_.

We slipped back down the spiral staircase, our hearts as light as our hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon — Weasely in detention — what could spoil our happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As we stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we _are _in trouble."

We'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.

Things couldn't have been worse.

Filch took us down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where we sat and waited without saying a word to each other. I was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover- up stories chased each other around my brain, each more feeble than the last. I couldn't see how we were going to get out of trouble this time. We were cornered. How could we have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for our being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and we might as well be packing our bags already. I nearly started to cry.

Professor McGonagall looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the two of us when she arrived. "I would never have believed it of either of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves_."

Neither of us answered her, staring fixedly at our feet. I was at the point of starting to cry and beg forgiveness when Harry spoke. "I had a row with Draco," I said, the words tumbling out of his mouth without warning. "He was bitten by a dog, you know, and I tried to heal it, and he's been angry with me all week because I only made it worse. And I heard Ron saying to Neville earlier today that Draco had a dragon or some madness like that. I knew Ron would be out trying to get him in trouble, so I told Hermione, and we came to warn Draco, since even though we'd been fighting he's still my best mate. But I suppose Ron was only trying to get us in trouble."

God, had he really just made all of that up? _He really is Slytherin at heart_, I thought wryly. Of course, this only reminded me that he was simply in Gryffindor because he was the best friend that anyone could ask for, so I held my peace, keeping my mouth shut and trying my best to look as though this story wasn't new to me.

"Well," McGonagall said, sighing tightly. "It's good to know what happened to that bite of Mr. Malfoy's to infect it that way. And I've already caught Mr. Weasely, spouting nonsense about a dragon. But _nothing _gives students the right to be out of bed in the middle of the night! That's twenty points from Gryffindor and detention for the both of you."

I winced, thinking of what the other Gryffindors would do when they woke up in the morning and found we had seventy points less than we had when they'd gone to bed.

**(We're getting close to the end here, guys! Their detention is in the next chapter, and I'm sorry to say that I'm not quite finished messing with it yet. If nothing goes wrong, it should be up in a couple of days. If I have to guess, there should be about two more chapters after this one. And maybe an epilogue; I'm not sure yet.)**

**(PS: you review, I become happy, I write you stories to read. See how it works? :) love you all!)**


	13. Mostly Gryffindor

**(This Chapter is from the Point of View of Harry Potter)**

The next morning, the whole school seemed to have heard the story I'd invented the night before, and in all its plausibility Hermione and I had become victims of Ron's spitefulness in the eyes of our schoolmates. Draco couldn't hide how completely proud he was of me and my newfound lying ability. Pansy was just put out that she'd missed the whole thing since there hadn't been room for three of us and the crate under the invisibility cloak. I felt a little guilty when I saw Ron being jeered at by his older brothers, the twins, but the feeling eased somewhat when he cornered me in our dormitory in order to point his wand at me and call me a git and a liar.

"It's not my fault you had it in for Draco so badly," I sneered back at him in a way that I silently noticed was very Malfoy-like.

"Ron, come on, leave it alone," Seamus said from across the room, exchanging a nervous glance with Dean and Neville. They were wondering if Ron was really about to try and curse me or something. I was fairly sure he would, and I could barely wait to lay into him when he did.

"You're on _his _side? His best mate is a Slytherin, and you lot are on _his _side?" Ron demanded furiously. "And he's convinced the whole school that I made up the story about that dragon, but he knows it was real! You should be expelled!" he yelled, pointing his wand in my face.

"You know, I thought you were a liar, but maybe you're just mad, after all," I said calmly.

"Damn you! _Crucio_!" he cried. For the briefest of seconds, pain shot through my chest and limbs, and my vision blurred into darkness. The next thing I was aware of was being woken up by Draco's voice.

"What happened?" Draco was asking someone far away.

"R-ron used the C-cr-cruciatus curse on him. It was awful. He just fell," someone that sounded kind of like Neville replied.

"That's impossible. First years can't do that sort of magic," said a girl's voice. Pansy, by the sound of it.

"The whole thing was madness. After I disarmed Ron, he headed for me, and Harry just kind of flew at him. I was afraid for Ron," Hermione's voice reached my ears, tremulous and weak. "And he hasn't let any of us touch him; so I went for you."

"Yeah, I know that part," Draco said dryly, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Come on, mate, let's get you to the hospital wing." I shook my head, and Draco sighed, lowering himself to sit beside me. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he asked then.

"Shut up," I mumbled, lifting my head off my knees and trying to focus my eyes on him. He touched the side of my face, sliding my glasses on and fixing them properly on the bridge of my nose. "What are you doing in here?" I asked, wondering who had allowed him to come into the Gryffindor common room.

Draco just smiled. "You've been wandering around the dungeons for hours; we've only just found you," he told me. I blinked at him then looked vaguely around myself. Hermione and Pansy were sitting against the wall opposite me in the corridor, holding onto each other and looking pale and scared. Neville Longbottom was standing behind Draco, looking even worse off than the girls.

"Ron has gemǣd fever," Neville said steadily. "Madam Pomfrey told me. He wasn't himself, or he wouldn't have used that curse on you…or been able to, actually. His magic was roiling inside him, affecting his rationality and magical strength. That's why he acted that way, Harry," he explained.

"You beat the hell out of him," Draco said cheerfully, throwing his arm around my shoulders and patting me on the back.

"Are you alright?" I asked Hermione. She nodded.

"He hit her," Pansy said, voice husky with emotion as she straitened Hermione's scarf.

"I know," I whispered.

"Come on, and let's get you to the hospital wing," Draco said again, standing up and offering me a hand. I accepted this time, and he pulled me to my feet.

Friday morning, I was so exhausted I could barely do more than just stare at my breakfast. The week had been unbelievably horrible, starting with the egress of Norbert and ending with a sleepless night in the hospital wing a few beds down from Ron Weasely.

He was at the breakfast table, too, systematically shredding his toast. I found that I couldn't look at him, and went back to contemplating my uneaten eggs. Hermione was sitting beside me, looking peaky in the grayish light of the overcast sky above us.

I was distracted from the surreal quality of the morning when the owl post arrived, and Hermione, Ron, and I were delivered identical notes:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight._

_Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

_Professor McGonagall _

I sighed and crumpled the note. I'd forgotten we still had detentions to do in the furor of the past two days.

At eleven o'clock that night, the three of us walked down to the entrance hall in total silence. Filch was already there.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. "I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at us, the orange lamplight making a jack-o-lantern of his cruel face "Oh yes… hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me… It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed… Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

We marched off across the dark grounds, and I wondered what our punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted. The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing us into darkness. Ahead, I could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then we heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started." My heart rose; if we were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. My relief must have shown in my face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy — it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

As it was, Hagrid assured us that nothing would hurt us while he or Fang was with us. "Alright now," Hagrid said in obvious relief when Filch was gone, "Hermione, you'll be comin' with me. You boys'll have Fang. I found unicorn blood in th'forest, and we need ter find the creature and put it out o' it's misery."

"What would injure a unicorn?" Ron asked, his skin looking sickly pale under his freckles.

Hagrid's face darkened. "Nothin' human," he growled, then turned toward the forest. "Look for silver blood. "Yeh know what it'll look like?" he asked Ron, who just nodded, looking increasingly nauseous. "Good. Send up red sparks if you're in trouble. Green if yeh found the unicorn. You two'll head thatta way; Hermione an' me are headin' this way."

With that, the giant of a man tromped into the darkness of the forest with Hermione trailing anxiously behind him. Ron and I exchanged a measuring glance, each trying to look less terrified than we were as we set off into the blackness of the tree line.

"_Lumos_," I whispered, holding my wand out in front of me to light the way enough so that I didn't trip on tree roots. Ron followed my example, and we proceeded along the rough trail in silence.

"Here," Ron said quietly after what seemed like eternity, holding his wand down so that the white light reflected off of some strange shimmering silver liquid.

"That's unicorn blood?" I murmured. It looked horribly sinister splattered on the leaves as it was, making gooseflesh break out on my arms and neck. He swallowed, nodding. "It's going this way," I said after a paused, setting off into the trees. Ron hadn't moved. "Well come on," I said as Fang sat down to wait for him.

"You don't-you don't understand," he said tightly. "The kind of _thing _that will kill a unicorn…it's nothing we can deal with. Let's call Hagrid before we go any further."

"He said to call him if we _found _the unicorn," I said in annoyance. "It's probably not much further. We'll just go ahead to it, then call him."

"Have you ever heard of Fenrir Greyback?" Ron asked in a small voice as he trailed reluctantly along behind me.

"No," I replied, wondered what the hell he was getting at.

"Can I tell you something, Potter?" he asked. I frowned over my shoulder at him and nodded.

"Well…Greyback is a werewolf. And a Dark Wizard. My brother Bill and I got lost from the trail from a creek back to my house the summer that I was six. There was a unicorn that the forest there was famous for. And…we wondered up to this clearing and saw him kill it. There isn't anything worse than killing a unicorn…he did it to try to make it where he could be a wolf all the time, since that blood gives so much power if you're healthy," he paused to take a deep breath, shaking his head as if to clear it (most likely of mental images) before continuing, "but after you've killed a unicorn, your life…is cursed," the last words were barely more than lips forming around a faint breath as his eyes went unfocused in terror.

I turned my head away from him to look ahead, where the moonlight was falling on the pure white form of a dead unicorn. My lips parted in shock and terror as a face coated in silver blood raised from where it had been buried in the beautiful creature's throat. My forehead exploded with pain and I collapsed onto the ground, writhing in agony.

One second I was certain I was going to die, and the next I was struggling to keep up with the person dragging me along behind them. "Run, you bloody idiot!" Ron roared. I snapped fully into awareness, wiped blood out of my eyes, and broke into a full run behind him. Then there was chaos as I was swung onto something's back and the pounding of hooves filled my head in a strange rhythm with the blood pounding in my temples.

"Are you well?" a low voice asked as my feet touched the ground again and Ron helped me stay upright.

"I'm okay," I said dizzily.

"The hell you are," Ron snapped. "Here, get the blood off of your face," he said, handing my a handkerchief. "I told you we should have called Hagrid. I _told _you!" he said, bouncing from foot to foot in agitation.

"Thank you for rescuing us," I said to the centaur that stood watching us solemnly.

"You are welcome. Be safe, Harry Potter," he said seriously before galloping into the forest.

"And thank _you _for not leaving me back there," I added in the general direction of Ron, dabbing at the blood that was still running into my eye. I frowned, thinking that I didn't remember hitting my head.

"Oh, no, don't thank me! It was a bleeding _pleasure_ to finally meet You-Know-Who! The experience was _to die for_!" he cried, just before he pointed his wand skyward and shot off red sparks.

"_What?" _I yelled, removing the cloth from my face to glare at him.

"Well why the hell _else _would your scar split open like that?" he roared back at me. I blinked in surprise, then reached up to gingerly touch my scar with an already bloody finger, wincing when I found it raw and bleeding.

"Bloody hell," I breathed. "So it's _him _that been killing unicorns. Unicorn blood gives half-life to someone whose an inch from death, so he must still be extremely weak. But…how did Voldemort get so close to the school?" I was basically thinking aloud, something I wouldn't have done had my head been less muddled, and wished that Draco was here to help me think properly.

Ron flinched at the name. "Hell if I know," he muttered, threading his fingers back through his orange hair in agitation.

"Bloody hell," I whispered, realization overwhelming me. _Snape! Snape is helping Voldemort. He doesn't want the Stone for himself. He wants to bring back Voldemort!_

"I know what you mean, mate," Ron sighed, though he really had no idea, threading his fingers through his hair again. Then he sighed again. "And…I'm sorry for going after you and your mate…even if he _is _a Slytherin. And a Malfoy."

I smiled wryly. "I think that lie of mine in retaliation was a bit much. Blame it on Slytherin influences. I would have been Sorted into Slytherin, you know, but the hat decided I was being brave by not wanting to leave Hermione on her own, and put me in Gryffindor."

"I was almost in Hufflepuff," Ron said with a self-depreciating smile.

"So I guess that makes both of us Mostly Gryffindor," I said, grinning.

That was when Hagrid came crashing through the underbrush, Hermione following him at a run.

When we finally got back to the castle, Hermione and I hastened to the Transfiguration classroom where we found Draco and Pansy where they'd fallen asleep, waiting for us to return, just like we'd known they would be. Draco shouted something about Quidditch fouls when I shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he and Pansy were both wide-eyed as I began to tell all three of them what had happened in the forest.

I couldn't sit down, so I paced up and down in front of the fire. I was still shaking.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort… and Voldemort's waiting in the forest… and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich…"

"Stop saying the name!" said Draco in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear us.

I wasn't listening. "This must mean that Voldemort's coming back…" "Will you stop saying the name!" Draco hissed.

"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," I went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off…"

Draco looked completely stricken and Pansy seemed to be in shock, but Hermione managed a word of comfort. "Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you."

The sky had turned light before we stopped talking. We went to bed exhausted, our throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over. When I pulled back my sheets, I found my invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it in the elegant script that I immediately recognized from the note that had accompanied the cloak when I'd received it. It read: _Just in case. _

**(AN: Alright, there is just one more chapter after this one, and then the epilogue! I've already started on the last chapter, but I keep changing my mind about who's point of view it should be in. I kind of want to show what happens with Harry once he's alone with Voldemort, but that part would just be like it is in the actual book and Harry already his more chapters from his view than any of the others(he has 4 and thee others all have3)…so the next chapter will most likely be in Draco's point of view. Whew. Done rambling now.)**

**(PS: reviews! We're drawing to a close here, but I still want to hear your feedback! :) Much love to all reviewers!)**


	14. Through the Trap Door

**(This Chapter is from the Point of View of Draco Malfoy)**

In years to come, I would never quite remember how I had managed to get through my exams when I half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the castle doors at any moment in order to murder my best mate. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door; we often stopped to listen for his growling.

I would wake in the dead of night, sweat-drenched and terrified, to find Blaise shaking my shoulder with a worried frown on his dark face. I suppose he assumed the nightmares were due to exam anxiety, but they were truly all watching Harry be murdered by the Dark Lord. I had only ever seen him as an infant, but I'd heard enough stories about him to have a general idea of his appearance.

He would sweeping into an exam room-black hair flying about his pale angular face, crimson eyes flashing with madness, as beautiful and terrible as Mother had always said he was-and kill Harry with a single incantation before anyone could so much as blink at him. And this was only one of many scenarios that tormented me throughout my sleeping hours.

I wasn't the only one having nightmares, either. Harry admitted to being plagued by them nightly when I pointed out the dark circles under his eyes.

Several times I would see pain flit across Harry's face, and he was almost constantly rubbing his scar. I knew that it was hurting him, and that scared me further. Harry seemed even more frightened than I was, which worried me even _more_, since I knew so much more about the Dark Lord than he possibly could. And I would tell him someday that my parents had worshipped the one that had killed his parents…but not now, while it still felt like such a betrayal.

It made me irrationally angry that Hermione and Pansy didn't seem nearly as scared as Harry and I were. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.

Coupled with my thorough fear of Voldemort, the exams were driving me absolutely mental with the combined stress.

Our very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and we'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until our exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told us to put down our quills and roll up our parchment, I couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as we joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Hermione always liked to go through our exam papers afterward, but I informed her that this made me feel rather ill, so we wandered down to the lake and flopped onto our backs under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Pansy sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You two boys could manage to look a little more cheerful; we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

I'd been watching Harry rub his forehead, his brow furrowed in pain. "I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily, surprising the three of us. "My scar keeps hurting — it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested in her usual fashion of going to authorities with everything. I was in a general state of sleepless annoyance by this point, and wished she would simply not talk.

"I'm not ill," Harry said sharply, and I guessed that he was feeling about the same as I was. "I think it's a warning… it means danger's coming…" This made my stomach twist with anxiety, but the girls couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around," Pansy said lightly. "Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, so I really doubt that he's in any hurry to have another go at it. And Weasely will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry nodded, but his expression remained troubled. "I just can't shake off the feeling that there's something I've forgotten, something important," he said uneasily.

Hermione said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one already." Pansy laughed at this, but judging by the frown still marring his features, I could guess that Harry was quite sure his unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work.

I followed his line of sight to an owl fluttering toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. I thought vaguely about Hagrid being the only one who ever sent Harry letters, and was thus distracted enough to be surprised when Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Where're you going?" said Pansy sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white; I was instantly ten times more worried than I had been a few seconds ago. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now." With those words, he took off across the grounds, and I followed at a sprint.

"Why?" I panted as I caught up with him and matched his pace.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

"And Hagrid was totally smashed at the time! You think he told the guy something about Fluffy?" I demanded, finishing his train of thought. Harry nodded grimly, and gooseflesh broke over my skin despite the fact that I was tearing across the grounds in the full heat of the sun.

When we got to his hut, Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and shelling peas in a large bowl. "Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Pansy, but Harry cut her off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?" he asked rapidly.

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

He saw the four of us exchange stunned looks and raised his eyebrows. "It's not that unusual. Yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head — that's one of the pubs down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas and it was too hot for me to care about the indignity of it as I followed suit. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?" I asked.

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah… he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here… He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after… so I told him… an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon… an' then… I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks… Let's see… yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted… but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home… So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy…"

"And did he — did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked carefully, but I could see that he was having to put forth extreme effort to keep his voice calm.

"Well — yeah — how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep —"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. I'm sure our expression were about the same. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey — where're yeh goin'?" But we were already gone.

None of us spoke to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds. "We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry once he'd caught his breath. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak — it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Where's his office?"

For a stunned moment, we looked around us, as if hoping to find a sign post pointing us in the right direction. We'd never been told just where his office was, come to think of it. Nor did we have any idea whom we should ask.

"What are you four doing inside on a day like this?" a voice asked from behind us. We all jumped, but relaxed when we found that it was Professor McGonagall.

"Good afternoon professor. We just wanted a moment of Professor Dumbledore's time, if he isn't busy. Could you please point us in the direction of his office?" I asked, rather smoothly if I do say so myself. She narrowed her eyes at me anyway. I suppose she'd seen far too many Slytherins in her day to miss it when one was in his element.

"He's just left for the Ministry of Magic after receiving an urgent owl," she said, only a little bit suspicious. That was doing good, seeing as we knew way more than we should have. "He should be back in a few days."

"Thank you, Professor," I said, and scooted Harry quickly from the hall back into the sunshine. The girls followed, eyes wide with muted horror. "Alright. That letter was way too convenient to be a coincidence. It was sent to get Dumbledore out of the way, so Professor Snape must be planning to go after the Stone tonight."

I met Harry's eyes and saw the emerald flames of determination there, and I knew that we would be far too busy to sleep that night.

"This is it then," Pansy said quietly. We stood in a circle outside the door that led to the room containing Fluffy. We all nodded grimly, and Hermione cast Alohamora to unlock the door. Harry began playing a little wooden flute that he'd told me he got from Hagrid for Christmas, the melody strange and beautiful.

Three huge heads drooped, six crimson eyes slid slowly closed, and the three-headed dog fell asleep. One by one, we slipped through the trap door and into darkness.

"Lumos," I whispered, revealing that thick vines were what had broken our fall, and also that said vines were currently winding themselves around our legs.

I grabbed hold of Harry's hand, and was just able to scramble up onto a ledge on the wall, and then had a moment of utter terror when Harry's hand slipped out of mine. I was firing severing charms at the plants, trying to reach Harry, who was rapidly sinking into the sea of plant. In a different world, I heard Hermione ranting hysterically that it was Devil's Snare and that fighting would only make it kill them faster.

How did the old rhyme go? _Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare, will choke you dead without a care. In dark and damp it has its fun_…_but_…how did the next bit go? "_Devil's Snare will die in the sun!" _I finished aloud in a burst of inspiration. "_Flammacreare_!" I shouted, and blinding blue light erupted into the darkness. The plant shrunk away from the fire, and I grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him up onto the ledge beside me and then we helped the girls free.

"Thanks mate," Harry said breathlessly as we continued down a passageway. I smiled weakly and nodded, trying not to think too much about what I was participating in. Oh, my father would kill me if he ever found out about any of this…

The next room was full of flying keys. "Broomsticks," Pansy said, plucking a hovering broom out of the air. "We have to catch the key to that door."

"But there are thousands," Hermione said in horror.

"They're all copper," I realized aloud. "And the doorknob is silver. Look at the keyhole. The key we're looking for is big and old and silver."

So the four of us mounted brooms and shot up into the air. Harry saw the key first, being the brilliant Seeker that he was. On his orders, Hermione and Pansy headed it off from ahead and above, and he and I closed in on it from either side. The moment we caught it was the slowest two seconds of my life as Harry's hand closed against mine, pinning it between our palms as the two of us spiraled in the air, neither of us daring to let go for fear of letting the key escape or tumbling out of the air. When we were able to slow down, still too afraid to stop, we lowered ourselves gradually toward the ground in a long, lazy spiral that left us a bit dizzy.

For a few seconds after we'd touched down, neither of us moved, simply stared at each other as if we couldn't remember what we were doing here. The air around us seemed full of energy that crackled around us in the stillness of the dazed moment.

"That was amazing," Pansy breathed from somewhere to my right, snapping us both back to the present. I nodded curtly and allowed Harry to grasp the key alone and run over to shove it into the keyhole and unlock the door. All four of us gasped in unison when we were smacked in the face with a horrible stench that brought back instant memories of the girl's bathroom on Halloween night.

A troll twice the size of the one we'd faced on Halloween was standing in front of the other door, but just as horrid as I remembered it. We stood and stared in shocked horror as it lifted its great club over it's head and charged.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione shrieked, and it's club was jerked out of its hand. It paused long enough for the club to crack down on its head one…two…_three _times. It collapsed, sending a burst of disgusting air wafting toward us. "I believe that makes up for my panic attack last time we faced one of these things," she yelled through the bit of her shirt that she'd pulled over her mouth and nose, as we sprinted across the room to the other door, which was mercifully unlocked.

We shut the door behind us and lights went up in the new room, drawing awed gasps from all of us as we beheld the most enormous chess set we'd ever seen. I watched Pansy's eyes narrow and wheels begin to turn in her head.

"We'll have to play our way across the room," she said, already strategizing.

"Alright, anyone disagree that Pansy is the best at chess?" Harry said lightly. None of us did.

"We'll have to be pieces," she said after a moment. "Harry, be a knight. Draco, be a bishop. I'll be the Queen," she said, her eyes touching on each of us as she spoke. "Hermione…" she paused, taking a deep breath. "You be the king, then." I recognized immediately that she'd done that on purpose, Hermione being the most protected, lost only if _everything _was lost. I couldn't blame her; if it had been me, Harry would be in Hermione's place.

The pieces seemed to have been listening, because the named pieces hopped off the board and we stepped up into our places among the ebony chess pieces. "White moves first in chess," she said, more to herself than us as a white pawn moved two spaces on the other side of the board.

Pansy started to direct the black pieces, and they moved silently wherever she sent them. Our first real shock came when our other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

"Had to let that happen," said Pansy, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Harry, go on." My knees were trembling now; what if she made a mistake and one of those things _killed _Harry?

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Pansy only just noticed in time that me or Harry was in danger. She herself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as we had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," she muttered suddenly. "Let me think — let me think…"

The white queen turned her blank face toward Pansy and a cold feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I saw the same impersonal realization in Pansy's eyes as she resolved herself to what she was about to do.

"Yes…" Pansy said softly, "It's the only way… I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Hermione cried.

"That's chess!" snapped Pansy. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I make my move and she'll take me — that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But —" Harry began.

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Pansy, please —" Hermione begged. I remained silent, because I knew that Pansy was right. There was no alternative. A detached part of my mind wondered at how very un-Slytherin it was for her to sacrifice herself this way. I was proud of her, regardless.

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!" she shouted. The others seemed to realize that they couldn't win this fight. Harry nodded solemnly, and Hermione bowed her head, crying quietly.

Our friend made her move, and the white queen pounced, striking Pansy hard across the head with her stone arm, and I realized just how small Pansy was as she crashed to the floor — Hermione screamed but Harry shouted at her to stay on her square — the white queen dragged Pansy to one side. I prayed desperately that she'd only been knocked out.

Visibly shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. We had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear.

"Get Pansy, try to wake her up, and carry her back to the room with the brooms. Take one and get out of here. You got it?" Harry asked Hermione, who nodded and ran to her fallen friend. "Come on," he bid me, and we crossed the board to the next door together.

"Alright, we got past Hagrid's dog. Sprout's challenge was the Devil's Snare. Flitwick must have charmed those keys to fly. The troll was Quirrell's. The chess game was McGonagall's. So Snape's obstacle is the only one left," Harry said, grabbing the door handle. Something about that list poked at my brain oddly, something that didn't make sense, but I couldn't imagine what it could be, and thus dismissed it.

"Snape is Slytherin through and through. His task will be subtle and dangerous," I warned before we stepped through the door. As soon as we were over the threshold a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. We were trapped.

"Look!" Harry seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. I looked over his shoulder to read it: _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight. _I let out a great relieved sigh and Harry gave me an incredulous look. "You've got to admit that the man is brilliant," I said reverently. "This isn't magic — it's logic — a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, so they'd be stuck in here forever."

"You've already figured it out, haven't you?" he asked in a resigned sort of amazement.

"Not quite," I laughed. "Give me just a minute."

As it was, it took me nearly fifteen minutes to solve the puzzle. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire — toward the Stone," said, but immediately went cold all the way to my core when I looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said quietly, simply voicing aloud what I had just realized. "That's hardly one swallow." We looked at each other for a long moment, and I knew that from here on he would be on his own. The thought nearly made me sick with anxiety and guilt at having to leave him. "Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" he asked.

I pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line, already knowing what he was about to say and knowing that it was just as inevitable as allowing Pansy to be injured.

"Help Hermione with Pansy. When you're out of here, go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore; we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"The Dark Lord may be with him," I said, unwilling to make no effort to convince him not to go.

"Well — I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, smiling mirthlessly and pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again." I was on the verge of tears, but Malfoys Never Cry, and I wasn't about to start. Instead, I threw my arms around him and crushed him to me.

"Don't you dare die, you pigheaded Gryffindor," I said into his shoulder. He laughed and hugged me back.

"I wouldn't dream of defying you, Draco," he said. "Take care of the girls. I'll be fine." I desperately wanted to believe him, but couldn't seem to do it.

"I know," I lied, releasing him and picking up the bottle that contained the potion that would get me back. I took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked anxiously.

I could have laughed. He was about to face the Dark Lord, and was worried about _me_. "No — but it's like ice," I said.

"Quick, go, before it wears off," he said. I ran over to him, grabbed his face in both my hands, and kissed him hard on the forehead before turning and running strait through the purple flames, leaving my best friend to face likely death without me.

I ran back to the girls, who had just reached the brooms when I caught up with them.

"Only one could go on," I answered shortly. "Now come on. Pansy, climb on behind me; you can't fly on your own. Hermione, follow me," I ordered curtly, mounting a broom. Hermione helped Pansy on behind me and we lifted off the ground. Hermione followed me back the way we'd come, through the key room, over the Devil's Snare, and past an enraged Fluffy.

We flew past Dumbledore in one corridor, and stopped to send him rushing off to Harry's aid, praying it wasn't too late. Imagine our shock when on our way to the hospital wing with the injured Pansy, we met Professor Snape, who, upon seeing us, strode forward and took the unconscious girl in his arms and rushed her to the hospital wing. We ran along behind him.

"It was Quirrell all along, then?" I asked, finally putting the pieces together in the _correct _order, as Madam Pomfrey cast diagnostic spells on Pansy. That had been what had seemed _off _in that moment before Harry and I walked into Snape's challenge. Quirrell's task had been a troll, which meant he must have had some kind of skill with them, which meant that _he _was far more likely to let a troll into the castle as a form of distraction than a potions master.

"Yes," Snape said curtly. "Rather confused, weren't you?"

"We all owe you an apology, sir," Hermione said, bravely meeting his glare. "It was wrong of us to suspect you just because you don't like Harry."

"Tell me what happened," he ordered me, rather than responding to her. "Don't leave a detail out."

"We knew the letter Dumbledore got was a fake, so the Stone was in danger. We stumbled on the three-headed dog on accident weeks ago, and Hermione got interested, so she researched it and found out that it could be put to sleep with music. So Harry played a flute to put it to sleep. We fell in Devil's Snare, and I remembered the old rhyme…you know…_In damp and dark it has its fun, but Devil's Snare will die in the sun_. So I lit a fire and got them free. The next thing was catching a key to fit the door, and Harry and I caught it together, between our palms.

"Then there was a troll that Hermione bashed over the head with its own club. And after that we were all in a chess match-Pansy against Professor McGonagall's chess pieces. We won the game, but she had to sacrifice herself to do it." Here I took a shuddering breath and cast a long glance at Pansy. "Then Harry and I went on to the next room. Yours," I said, and managed a smile. "It was a marvelous riddle, sir. The smallest bottle was the one that would let Harry go on, wasn't it?"

"My riddle must not have been so marvelous if an eleven-year-old solved it," he said sardonically. "Which you did." I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and I realized that I might have just laid down and died right there in the corridor if I'd given Harry poison.

"The three of us took brooms from the key task and came back up here on them. We sent Dumbledore down after Harry and headed this way, then ran into you," I finished the story as an afterthought. "Is she alright?" I asked Madam Pomfrey, walking over to the bed where Pansy lay.

"She will be. Come hold her up so she can drink this," she ordered me, indicating the cup of Skelegrow that she held.

"Hermione?" I asked, knowing how badly she needed to insure her friend's safety. Hermione nodded and crawled onto the bed beside Pansy, lifting the other girl's upper body gently off of the bed. "_Enervate_," Madam Pomfrey incanted, pointing her wand at Pansy, who woke up instantly with a small pained moan.

"Drink this, Pansy," Hermione said gently, lifting the cup to Pansy's lips. She drank, making a disgusted groaning sound in the back of her throat as she did so.

"That was vile," Pansy coughed as she was laid back down. "Don't go anywhere, 'Mione? Please?" she whispered, holding onto Hermione's hand.

"May I please stay with her? Please?" she asked the medi-witch tearfully. Madam Pomfrey sighed and nodded. Hermione thanked her passionately before laying down and wrapping her arms around her sleeping friend.

"She'll make a full recovery," the medi-witch told Snape in a hushed tone that implied that she didn't mean for me to hear it but couldn't be troubled with sending me out of the room and probably knew I would refuse to go if she tried. "That girl is lucky to be alive. If that blow had struck her even the smallest bit differently, it could have killed her instantly or caused her brain to swell and cause permanent damage. As it is, she's got herself a fractured skull that will be hell healing. It's a bit of a blessing that she's so exhausted that she'll sleep through the worst part of the pain," Madam Pomfrey stopped for breath, and seemed to notice that there were two other children standing around looking battered and grubby. Were either of you injured?" she asked, looking between me and Hermione.

Before I could answer, Dumbledore came sweeping into the room, Harry's lifeless body levitated out in front of him and lowered onto a hospital bed.

Unconscious, damn it. He was _unconscious_.

Not dead.

Harry _couldn't _be dead.

I wouldn't _let _him be.

"_Harry!" _I gasped, my voice strangled in my throat as my knees lost the ability to support my weight. I gripped the bed to hold myself up, even as I pressed my hand onto his chest and felt his heartbeat pounding strong and true against it.

Relieved beyond all reason, I relaxed, and the world tilted sideways and went dark. I woke sometime later in the night, finding myself in a bed of the silent and dark hospital wing. I sat up and looked around. Hermione and Pansy were curled close together in the bed across the aisle from me, and Harry was sleeping in the bed next to mine.

I swung my legs out of bed and walked over to his. I stared at him for a long moment, my best friend, the most important person in the world. I brushed his dark fringe away from his famous scar and smiled softly down at him before I crawled into bed beside him, just to make certain that he was whole and breathing. He stirred in his sleep, and threw an arm over my waist. I sighed contentedly and curled close to him. I didn't necessarily mean to fall asleep, but I did. When we woke up, I would hear about his adventure after I'd had to turn back, but now wasn't the time for that. I knew he was alive, and I knew that we'd won, and that was all I needed to know.

**(AN: I'm so happy I finished and I'm so sad it's over! Well, not completely, since there's also an Epilogue after this. And since I felt like it for some reason, the Epilogue is, in fact, written from the third person point of view. Like I probably should have done the rest of this fic. Oh well. I rather like it the way it is :) but your feedback is still very much desired. **

**So how did I do? Did this chapter work well in Draco's point of view? Is their growing bond as adorable as I think it is? Are you worried about how complicated Draco's life is going to become in the future? Should I let it remain a mystery, or attempt a sequel? Tell me! Review! Love to all reviewers! (and I love you even if you don't review :) just for reading my story!)**


	15. Epilogue

**(The Epilogue is in Third Person Point of View)**

Harry Potter made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving him one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. He found it vaguely unjust that Gryffindor had only lost by ten points, but he didn't mind being happy for Draco and Pansy at all.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron, who he didn't mind so much anymore, and Hermione, who hugged him tightly when he sat down, at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away. "Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…" He paused to smile indulgently as a low laugh ran through the students.

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and fifty-two; Gryffindor has four hundred and sixty-two, and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table and nudging Pansy Parkinson happily. The sight made him smile.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little. Harry kind of hoped the headmaster wasn't about to do what he thought the old man was about to do.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes… "First — to Miss Pansy Parkinson…" Harry could see the pale girl blush scarlet all the way from across the hall. "… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Slytherin house fifty points." The Slytherins cheered loudly and clapped her on the back, grinning wildly around at each other. At last there was silence again.

"Second — to Miss Hermione Granger… for bravery and cunning in the face of uneven odds, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table nearly raised the enchanted ceiling with their roaring cheers.

When the noise grew low enough for him to be heard again, Dumbledore continued. "Third — to Mr. Draco Malfoy, for cool wit in the face of fire, I award Slytherin House fifty points."

Draco flushed and grinned across the hall at Harry, who grinned back. They both knew what was coming. "And fourth — to Mr. Harry Potter…" The room went deadly quiet. "… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house…sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had five hundred and seventy-two points — exactly the same as Slytherin.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, "we need a little change of decoration." He clapped his hands. In an instant, every other set of green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent wound slightly to the side and a towering Gryffindor lion appeared beside it. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls… he would never, ever forget tonight.

**THE END**

**(AN: short ending, wasn't it? Ah, well. I did like making the houses tie :) that made me happy. Hope you loved it! Review and tell me! Love you all!)**

**(PS: also, I'd like to say that I'm planning on doing my own version of their second year, as well. The bad news is, it absolutely drove me crazy to post this as I wrote it. So, I'm going to finish my new story before I post it. At least that means that you get the whole thing at once! I don't like to do it, but not being able to go back and change stuff made me crazy.)**

**(PSS: This storyline is not only thing I'm working on right now, so it may be a while on me getting out their second year to you. Sorry!)**


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